


Never Look Back

by RavenStoryteller



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Disorder, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, F/M, Flashbacks, Homelessness, Loneliness, Past Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:38:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4352732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenStoryteller/pseuds/RavenStoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss appears to have the perfect life. Loving family, bright future, and a doting boyfriend, Cato, but inside she holds a grim secret. And when her relationship with Cato takes an even darker turn, she decides to leave her life behind. Life as a runaway in the big city tests Katniss and pushes her to the brink. That is until a familiar pair of blue eyes appear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thunderstorms

**Author's Note:**

> I have been posting this fic on another site so I will update chapters everyday for the first week. I started writing a short story along these same lines years ago, however, my love for THG and Everlark has lead me to resume work now as a FF. 
> 
> I love feedback/reviews/opinions! It honestly inspires me to write, so please leave a comment below :)
> 
> I do not have a beta so I apologize in advance for my mistakes. 
> 
> Anyways.... enjoy
> 
> RavenStoryteller
> 
> PS I do not own any elements from the Hunger Games, it all belongs to the amazing Suzanne Collins

If I had to compare my life to anything, it would be thunderstorms. A sudden onset of brisk winds, bringing forth the unpredictable melody of teardrops. I love to watch them; storms.

Back in my early school years, a teacher told us that they were the result of the air becoming “unstable”. When two extremes, hot and cold, collide. Release, I think that’s what it is. And yet, I can’t imagine the confrontation that preceded this peaceful display.

Hot and cold. Separate they are unbearable, dauntingly so. Yet combined they create a perfectly warm and welcome sensation. Soft caresses, gentle touches, a sigh of both pent up excitement and its impending release. The feeling of wanting more and the hope that it never ends. But it has to start somewhere. 

Hot and cold. 

Surely the path my mind was laying down would be anything but brief and unfulfilling. It’s easy to fantasize about something you’ve never felt. Release. I guess it’s the unknown, the idea that anything is possible that drives my thoughts. I suppose that’s why all these syfi/romance movies are so popular. When life has settled into a routine, naturally people objectify themselves as characters. The ones who live out our wildest fantasies fight against oppression, and against all odds, and succeeded. At least that’s what I think. Then again, my mind would actually have to take the backseat for a while and let someone else’s ideas ignite the spark for once to let that happen.

Fat chance. That’s why I’m here, after all. I doubt this is what my counselor meant by keeping a journal. He was probably thinking I’d just jot down what I ate for breakfast or how some crappy chain of events made me feel so I could “reflect on my feelings”, only to forget about it when I turn the page. 

I wish. The truth is I wish I could just scribble down some random piece of my life, look at it briefly, then move on. You know, that whole storm thing, that’s just one of more than a dozen things to pop into my head within the past hour or so. What’s worse, that same train of thought will be back to haunt me, even weeks from now. 

Trains. The train horn breaks up my latest ramble. It’s not terribly close to the point where it wakes me in the middle of the night, but it does pull me back to reality quite often. I have to wonder though….. What is it like to live close the tracks? Does one just get used to it? I think if I ever bought a house, I’d actually choose to be closer, just to save me from my own mind.

No, I’m not crazy… well not entirely. I have these episodes. In all actuality they are panic attacks, I just don’t prefer the terminology. Anyway, my episodes, I can handle those. A little “me” time usually does the trick. My headphones turned up so loud that the world around me seems like the perfect music video. The soundtrack to my life. What eats me alive is the fear of the attacks. My mind never stops. It’s always ready veer off course, crash and burn. Waiting yet not waiting. It’s these moments that drive me insane. Is what I’m thinking real? Why am I talking to myself?

Wait…. Stop Katniss…. Wake up.

I’m not on my front porch anymore and the rain has stopped for now. Where am I? At the store? Why am I here? Do I need something? Is it really past midnight? I catch myself asking these questions even though I already know the answers. 

I can’t remember the last time I went to a store with the strict purpose of buying something. Don’t get me wrong, I love to get out, but the buying part of it hasn’t been my motive for a while. It was more of a cover really; a reason to escape from the reality of my life. This was my release.

But it was my secret. Everyone just assumes I have a shopping problem. Truth is, I hate shopping. I just can’t seem to rationalize it. Heck, I could make $1 million a day and I’m sure I would still have a problem buying $50 jeans. So, as you can imagine, the majority of my clothes are past their prime. Most are probably around five years old or so and severely outdated.

No, the real reason I shop, the reason I can navigate every store without a single glance, the reason I blackout, only to find myself surrounded by materialistic obsessions is simple. I’m running. Running form my obligations, my reality, and my relationships. I’m running from myself.

You see, my problem, the whole reason I’m sitting here putting pen to paper is because I “lack proper coping mechanisms” and have “an inability to process basic situations”. What the hell does anyone know about the life I live within? I dare you to imagine. 

Stop. Breathe.

Let me start over. “Hi, my name is Katniss Everdeen. I’m 17 years old. I live in the northern limits of District 12 with my parents, my sister Prim, and my boyfriend, Cato.” Despite the apparent fullness of the house, I constantly feel trapped and alone. But I guess that’s what I get for opening my heart to someone.

I met Cato at school. “I know this guy who is perfect for you! He’s honestly the sweetest guy I know!” That’s exactly what my best friend had told me 3 years ago. If that was the case, my current days wouldn’t be so dark. I don’t know, maybe it is my fault. I let him into my world, told him all my darkest secrets. I mean, what else could I do? His dad left him when he was four years old and started a new family in another district, and his mom was the very definition of dysfunction. For someone with such beauty, she sure had her share of demons. Then again, who was I to judge?

I don’t know if could ever bring myself to have children. I’m too damaged. How can I hope to give my kids advice when I can’t even figure out my own issues? Don’t get me wrong, I would love to have them; I just don’t think it would work out. 

Anyway, after a crazy night which involved his mom beating him to a pulp and a midnight search to track him down, I convinced my parents to let him live with us. They were against it from the start, but somehow they caved. I know I don’t say it enough, but maybe they were right. 

The first time he pushed me against the wall, my elbow left a hole in the drywall in my bedroom. His first swing at my face only grazed my cheek, but his grip on my neck left a bruise. When I denied him access to my most private area, he forced his way though. I went numb. It was either that or acknowledge that what I had feared was true. Even things that once brought me joy were replaced with his interests. I had lost my life, yet I was still breathing.

After a while, the bruises heal, the yelling subsides, and the tears dry. But I don’t like who I see in the mirror. I’m not me. I am an empty vessel that once carried a free spirit. I had felt love before, but now my heart was filled with disgust.

I have to buy something, or else return to face an assault of questions or something worse. Tampons, perfect. My excuse for being away from home as well as my savior from pain. He doesn’t dare try to touch me when it’s “that time of the month”. He would believe it too. I pick up what I’ve decided on along with some miscellaneous filler items to help explain the time spent at the store, and head for the check out. 

As I place my items on the conveyer belt, I feel the presence of eyes on my face. “Cookie Dough huh?” referring to the pint of ice cream I had just placed down. 

“Of course. It is the best flavor after all.” I respond, slowly raising my eyes to match his. I’m almost too awestruck to finish my claim. He is my height, five foot seven or so, blonde hair brushed slightly to the side, his blue eyes are deep with character. 

“I don’t know” he sharply inhales, his lips pulling tightly with his boyish grin. “I think Cake Batter wins the whole ‘double dessert’ flavor category.” 

I can feel my cheeks rush with color, which he notices, letting out a small laugh. “Tie perhaps?” I suggest.

“Fine… but just this once!” he turns to the cashier and accepts his change. His presence is hypnotizing and even the cashier seems to lose herself staring at him. His hands appear gentle but are supported by strong arms. Arms that would provide shelter and safety, they seem. Unlike the ones that left their mark on me. I catch myself in his trance in time to hear him ask if I am okay.

I simply nod, letting a small smile escape my face. He returns with one of his own, thanks the cashier, and turns to collect his bags and disappears from the store. I turn my attention to the cashier and complete my transaction. I’m still not quite collected, as I almost forget to grab my bags. My heart is fleeting, as if no matter how hard I try, I can’t catch my breath. It’s a strange feeling, one I’m not familiar too with, but none the less, this mystery boy has given me a reason to smile. 

Once again, I’m zoned out, walking through my life as if I were on auto-pilot. I don’t want to wake up and risk losing this sensation. I make my way to my car, starting the engine without thought. As I make my way to the roadway, I once again lock eyes with my mystery boy, waiting in the brisk night air for the bus. Before I can pull up beside him, the bus arrives and I lose view of him as he gets on. Perhaps it was for the best; I have absolutely no idea what I was planning to say. And with that, the bus pulls away, headed towards the city, and I proceed in the opposite direction, his image still locked in my mind. 

I don’t remember the drive home. My head was occupied, desperately holding on to his image. His piercing eyes, his warm presence, all too fair to be real. Had I imagined him? Was he just another escape from my bitter life I had projected into my mind? No, he was real. The way my heart fluttered at the very thought of him had to be real. I decided then and there that he was. 

The familiar sight of my parent’s house brings me back down. How I wished to stay in my thoughts, with him. I knew once I opened the door, I would lose myself to Cato’s wrath once again.


	2. Was is all just a dream?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I said I would update sooner but life threw some curveballs at me this week. Anyways, here is chapter 2.  
> Enjoy :)  
> Love always, RavenStoryteller

I slowly open my tired eyes. I’m at the beach, the wind softly blowing the sand through my hair. The moon seems bigger than usual, almost like I could reach out and grab it. I would do anything to save this moment. I am at peace, with not a care in the world. The waves crash against the beach, just before my bare toes, leaving them buried slightly as they recede into the dark abyss. I fold my arms against myself, trying desperately to hold on to this feeling. 

Suddenly, a light catches my eye from down the beach. It’s a flashlight, mostly stationed on the sand, but every once in a while, lifting slightly to shine upon my face. Why did my moment have to end? I’m trying to zone out again, to get back to my previous gaze, but it’s no use. The light is much closer now. I stand prepared to confront the person responsible for my loss of serenity. However, once I see his face, I am completely speechless. I find myself caught up in a pair of familiar blue eyes. 

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you.” He asks. His voice just as soothing as it had been during our first meeting. I open my mouth to answer, but I’m still at a loss for words. What is wrong with me? SAY SOMETHING!

“Come on, I want to show you something.” He finally responds to my awkward silence, lending out his hand to mine. His skin is softer than I imagined, as my hand seems to glide over his until our fingers intertwine. As we turn to walk, following his lead, I glance back over my shoulder to remember my origination. But my eyes can’t stray for long, as soon I find myself staring at him once again. His arms are strong, leanly built muscles covered in golden tan skin. His shoulders are broad yet gentle, as if he could lift me effortlessly. His face, oh my goodness, that face, the perfect balance of masculinity and childlike wonder. And his eyes, the stories they could tell. They look much more mysterious in the moonlight. He must notice my fixated gaze as he responds with a smile. 

“Where are we going?” I finally ask. It doesn’t really matter, I’d follow him anywhere. 

“You’ll see, we’re almost there. Trust me.” It had never occurred to me that I was putting my trust in someone I didn’t really know. To be perfectly honest, I knew nothing about him other than the fact that he prefers to do his shopping late at night and live in the city. I don’t even know his name. I decide not to ask him, I didn’t want to ruin this moment with him. 

We continue walking just along the breaking point of the waves. The bottom of my dress is soaked, lightly weighing it down against the wind blowing against it. I glance over at his feet, exposed by his equally wet, rolled jeans. Even the way he walked was perfect. 

Before I know it, we have stopped. “It took me a while, but I found it. The perfect spot.” He says with a light smirk upon his face. I look just ahead a see a grouping of large rocks, the waves breaking upon them, and spraying upwards into the air. Then it occurs to me, he is right. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to stand on rocks like these, as the waves break behind me, just like in all those stereotypical romance novel covers and princess movies. I never dreamed about meeting prince charming at a ball or dancing in a beautiful gown. I always pictured this as a truly romantic idea. I know it’s cheesy, but a girl can dream. 

I can’t contain myself. I leap forward into his arms, smiling against his cheek until he turns his head so that his lips meet mine. It’s the most gentle kiss I could ever imagine, full of passion, yet careful. His hand runs through my hair, my curls flowing in the breeze. I try to take it all in, but it’s too much to process. In this moment, I come undone in his arms.

How could he possibly share my feelings? Wait, what are my feelings? I just met him. Is he thinking the same thing? He initiated the kiss, right? How did he know about the rocks? He couldn’t. No, there’s no way for him to know. Wake up.

I open my eyes.

The clock in my bedroom reads 4:13am. It was only a dream, yet I could still feel the warmth of his embrace, the sweet smell of his skin. Why did I have to wake up? Why couldn’t I just stay there in my dreamland, where no one could get to me? It was too good to be true.

My door is still locked, so I know safe for now. I assume my little lie had fooled Cato since I didn’t wake up from another nightmare. I must have laid on my face wrong because my cheek is throbbing where the bruise was trying to heal. I consider getting a damp wash cloth to ease my pain, but I decided against it and instead just try to fall back asleep, hoping to slip back into my dream.

A few hours later, I see is the sun shining through my sheer green curtains, warming my cheek ever so slightly. I lay there for as long as I can, trying everything and anything to remember my sweet dream. I have nothing to do today so hanging onto that sliver of happiness seems like the best thing to do at the moment. It’s Tuesday, around 10am or so, Cato is already at work by now no doubt. I, thankful for a peaceful night as I glance over and see my door still locked. 

I wished I could fall back into my earlier dream. For that brief time (though not real), I was free. Not afraid of anything, free to breathe and live my life. Oh I wished I could be with him. How ridiculous is this? How do I know what this guy was really like? For all I know, he is some creep who just puts on a charming front to attract girls. What if deep down he was no better than Cato? It’s not like he was cruel when I met him. Sure, they all start out nice, it’s not like I woke up one morning and said “I think I want to smacked around. Better yet, why not destroy myself completely?” No, this guy couldn’t be like Cato. I know it sounds cliché but I could see it in his eyes. 

His eyes. Just thinking about them makes me yearn for their gaze. A warm feeling overcomes me and I find myself cuddled around my pillow as a deep sigh escapes my mouth. The euphoria I feel is overwhelming. All the possibilities that lie with him. Perhaps it’s the unknown, the slight chance of my happy ever after that, while completely unfounded, brings a smile to my face. I don’t care if it sounds ridiculous, I can’t help it. A girl can dream, right?

I slowly rise myself from the bed and make my way to bathroom. I would like to add that one of the greatest things about this new house is that I have my own private bathroom within my bedroom. Sharing with Prim with all her cosmetics and hair styling tools was torture. 

I reach inside the shower and turn on the hot water. Steam quickly fills the small room as I slip out of my night gown. I’ve never been comfortable in my bare skin: too many scars. Scars are constant reminders of our past. The ones on my shins tell the tale of a die-hard softball player, on my arms, days of climbing trees and falling off my bike. It’s not like they are bad memories, I just don’t like to remember anything. It makes forgetting the bad memories much easier. 

I catch a glance of my bare form in the vanity mirror. I don’t know why I’m not secure with myself. Sure, I’m no supermodel, but for a girl who has never formally worked out or dieted, I have to admit, I look pretty good. I really should embrace my looks. When I’m older, I’ll look back of these days with envy.

One day. For now, I wake myself from my stare and step into the shower. I let out a small gasp as the scolding hot water hits my shoulders, rubbing them as the instantly turn red. I know it sounds sick, but I love this feeling. It makes me feel alive, like I’m in control over my body. Plus, I think it beats creating more scars.  
I stand under the water for what seems like forever before I realize I'm daydreaming again. Only this time, I don’t remember what I was thinking about. I’ve been in here so long that the hot water is running out, slowly becoming mildly warm. I hurry and wash my hair and body, shutting off the water the second I am rinsed clean. 

In contrast to the hot water, the air is brisk and cold in comparison, and I quickly wrap myself in my towel. For whatever reason, I decide to take the time to do my hair and makeup today. Usually, my hair is swiftly put into a briad and my face is left bare. Why should I bother taking the time to make myself look beautiful? It’s not like anyone would look at me like that. But today is different. Maybe it’s my dream from last night, but I feel empowered. Like I matter and am worthy of attraction. I style my hair so my curls cascade down over my shoulders and my long bangs frame my face by way of a side part. For some reason, when I style my hair this way, the chocolate hue of the strands seems to pop. For my face, I gently paint an array of earth tones, finishing with a pale pink lip gloss. In the end, even I am amazed at my transformation. It’s been a while since I loved the way I looked. It’s funny to think that a silly dream can inspire such feelings. 

I dress myself in my favorite jeans and a black tee. I know it’s not the most lively of colors, but I think black is definitely my color. Without much more thought, I grab my purse and head out the door of my room, down the stairs and out of the house. The leather of my car seat feels cool through my jeans, and it’s this shocking feeling that reminds me that I’m alone. I start the car and back out of the driveway. Taking one last glance of my house, I shift into first gear and speed away, leaving behind my personal jail. 

My house is not a home. Home is where your soul lives. It’s where you feel safe and can be free to love life. Somewhere to be with the ones you love and embrace them. But there, I’m not safe, I’m not free. And though I’m sure my family loves me, they are still blind to my pain. They don’t understand me. My mom tries. I’ve always seen her as my closest friend. If anyone matters in my life, it’s her. But as much as she cares, I don’t think she honestly knows me. I don’t think it’s really her fault. I have become quite the shut in these past few years. My dad on the other hand makes no effort. Growing up, I was the perfect little daddy’s girl. I played sports, he coached my softball and basketball, I helped him with every construction project he had around the house. Then I lost it. And though my diagnosis was a relief to me, my father denied it. “This whole thing is crazy! It’s all in her head! Just because she gets stressed doesn’t mean she has a ‘disorder’!” I heard him yell at my mom the night after my first appointment. You see, my dad grew up in a home where you don’t believe in psychology. “It's all in your head.” “There are no such things as mental disorders.” “People on meds just want a quick fix because they can handle life.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard these words. I don’t think he means to sound cruel, it’s just his upbringing. I think it’s his whole opinion on my situation that has made him oblivious to my current troubles. 

I tried talking to my parents about Cato when he first began pushing me around, but I think they just dismissed it as me overreacting. Anyway, I’m sure they mean well…

I don’t know where I’m going. I’m just driving, enjoying the wind in my hair from my open windows. Where we live, there is a strange combination of city, suburbia and urban landscape. We were right dab smack in the middle of a suburban town. Go about 20 miles south on the main road and you hit the good old Capitol. Five or six miles north on that same road and you are surrounded by the acres of farms and 19th century houses that make up District 11. Every turn brings on new discoveries. An always changing landscape. 

I start my journey with a left turn off our street and head north into the country. I think I just want to be alone with my thoughts. Something about driving down those winding roads just puts me at ease, and I can really think. The fresh air and sounds of the wind breaking against my open windows, just feels right. 

I’m not sure how long I’ve been driving, but it must have been a long while. I’m gas gauge which started out at the 1/3 mark is now flashing a red light. I decide to make a stop at a small gas station. It must be family owned. There are only two pumps and the attached convenience store is partially in ruins. After my car is refueled, decide to reverse my direction and head toward the city. Thank goodness for GPS. I have no idea where I am, let alone how to get out of here. 

As I regain my bearings, I suddenly decided to turn towards the beltway, making my way towards the beginning of the metro line. For sure, this meant I wanted to go into the city. Why? I was never comfortable in the city. Too many people I suppose. And while I loved the idea of city living, I was without a doubt no city girl.  
I park my car at the park and ride and proceed to gather only what I can fit into my pockets. I just didn’t want to be weighed down by my bag. I had slipped my phone and wallet into my jeans and grab my hoodie from the trunk, locking the car as I begin to walk away. It’s late June, but the air is cool, around 70 degrees, if I had to guess. I make my way down the path, towards the platform and purchase a day pass. I’m alone at the station, but it’s not long before the train arrives and I board.  
There are twelve stops between here and the end of the line, and I decide on number eleven. Where I’m going exactly or why I’m going there has finally crossed my mind, and I don’t know the answer to either question. All I know is that I didn’t want to stay where I was. 

I must have spaced out again because the next thing I remember is reading out the window…  
Welcome to the Capitol.


	3. Welcome to the Capitol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for the love :)

I had almost forgotten how beautiful the city really is. Historic buildings line the main roads, while tall, narrow townhomes stretch down the side streets in every direction. I always thought it was funny that a perfectly maintained home was right next door to one with plywood over the windows. Sometimes I wish there was just a quick fix for the city; a way to get rid of all the violence that plagues the nightly news. Better help for those left to sleep on the cold park benches and alleyways. I’m sure at one time all of the Captitol was a lovely place to live. To be honest, I often thought about moving here once I got through school. 

Cato would never allow it. He hated the city. Even visiting the Harbor Center was a chore for him. I can’t see why, it truly is a beautiful sight. War time ships stationed in the water, brick and cobblestone walkways, leading to shops and restaurants. From the top of the hill overlook, the lights reflect off the water, shining brighter than the moon itself. I know the city gets a lot of bad press, but to me, it’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. I guess it’s like anything else in the world, people are afraid of what they don’t know. 

Of course, who am I to judge? Here I am, stuck in my own worst nightmare, afraid of change. Seriously? What could possibly be worse than my life as of present? But yet, I’m utterly afraid of the unknown. What would become of me if I tried to rid my life of Cato? Sure, I’d like to image he would go willingly, leaving me free to live my life. Who was I kidding; he would never give up that easy. I couldn’t even change my hair style without his permission. I guess it’s pointless to dream of a life other than mine. The reality of it is that I was caught in a state of hopelessness and self pity, a place no one will ever truly understand. Capitol City, I feel your pain. 

As I exit the train car, my nose fills with the familiar city smells of food carts and bay breeze. At first the sounds seem to blend together, but once I stop to listen I can distinctly hear the pulsing of the crosswalk light warning pedestrians not to cross, the humming of idling cars waiting at a busy one-way intersection, and the sounds of people talking and laughing, just going about their day. I wonder if this was what it was like to live here. You would think the combination of so many senses would be overwhelming, yet I find it soothing. For once, my constant worrying is not the foremost thing in my mind. 

I don’t really know where I want to go, I was just happy to be here. I take a right off the train and begin my way down the dense city sidewalks. I used to love going for walks. Trekking through the lightly wooded area just beyond my childhood neighborhood; my music player on repeat with my favorite album; the wind in my face, alone with my thoughts. God I miss those days. There is something relaxing about exploring, guided only by my own two feet. 

Before I realize, I have stopped in front of the Capitol Mockingjays Baseball Museum. My love of the Mockingjays showcased within a historic row home-turned-museum. And free admission on weekdays? Now I just have to go in. 

Brick covered walls and exposed beams display the history of baseball in our city. Industrial lighting shines like spotlights on each piece of memorabilia. The Capitol greats immortalized, I’m in awe of the sights before me. Brutus Hancock, perhaps the greatest Mockingjay of all time. From his record breaking streak of consecutive games to his contributions to Capitol communities, he is defiantly a hometown hero. Just seeing this brings a tear to my eyes. My grandfather loved Brutus. I remember the back room of my grandparents home, the walls covers in Mockingjay photos and such. Chaff Decanio and Brutus were his favorites. When he passed away, my grandmother took down most of the mementos and they were given to my mother. My father claimed most of them and gave the rest to my sister. I don’t know why, she never even liked baseball growing up. Heck, I was the one who played softball 6 days a week for 7 years straight. But I guess that is neither here nor there. Anyway, granddad had this plaque commemorating Brutus’ record breaking consecutive game streak. I remember that day like it was yesterday. Back then I was determined to be the first woman to pay for the Mockingjays. I was such a wonderful memory in my life. So, once my father received the memorabilia, I stole the plaque from the box and kept it hidden all these years in my closet, tightly tucked inside a fitted bed sheet. One last piece to remember my granddad. If he could only be here now, I’m sure he’d knock me upside the back of the head for not sticking up for myself. 

I break my train of thought and move on. About 20 or so feet down the way, I see a life-sized cut -out of Woof Fogherty, and I can’t help but smile. “Woof is my hero.” Oh my god, I can’t believe I used to tell that to everyone. A fellow lefty, he’s the whole reason I started playing softball. Growing up left-handed, I was always uncomfortable in the world ruled by right handed sportsman. In soccer, my coaches made me lead with and throw dragging my right foot. In basketball, free throws were only taught with ones right hand under the ball and the left on the side. Even bowling balls were only made for right handed bowlers at the local alley. But when I saw Woof, a left-handed baseball player, thriving in a predominantly right-handed sport, I knew I wanted to play. My father was thrilled. “Left handed batters are the best follow up hitters, because the hit the ball behind the running on first, and a left-handed first basemen is unstoppable in the field.”, he told me. So that’s what I did. I practiced every day. I stretched into near splits to catch shortly thrown balls, ran drills for backing up the pitcher in the event of a bunt, and even learned to switch hit, just in case the opposing team decided to shift their players in anticipation of a left-handed batter. Yep, it was Woof Fogherty who inspired me. I guess he really was my hero, because playing softball was probably the only time in my life where I felt sure of myself. Thanks Woof.

After seeing Woof, nothing else seems to stand out as I walk aimlessly around the rest of the museum. I miss the feeling of joy softball used to bring me. The rush of a double play, the taste of sunflower seeds and Gatorade, dirt in my cleats and the tan line at my knees caused by my mismatched blue and yellow socks. I miss it all. It’s just another joy that Cato stole from me. “You’re spending too much time practicing.” He said. “You are my girlfriend!” I stop myself, not wanting to remember the physical side of that fight. 

Oh how things have changed. I used to have so much fun. And my friends, what it was like to have friends. In hindsight, they couldn’t have been really true friends. Most of them were only worried about taking my place as first-baseman as soon as I told them I was quitting the team. A few of them genuinely cared about me, but then once Cato gained control over me, I lost touch with even my closest friends. That’s how he wanted me, all to his self. And now, I have no one left, except him. 

And I have let him do it to me; I have no one to blame but myself. 

Even now, I’m here, somewhere that should only bring my happiness, and he litters my innermost thoughts. Can I not have even one pleasant memory without Cato tainting it? What is wrong with me? I have got to stop letting him in my head. How did it get this bad?

No more. I’m here to enjoy myself. I’m here to…. Why am I here? I mean seriously, I went all the way to the city and I don’t even know why. At least I remember how I got here. 

After briskly viewing the remaining exhibits in the museum, I exit out the same door and once again find myself on a crowded street. I can tell it’s getting late as I head to the harbor, as I remember I hadn’t really eaten since the gas station 6 hours early. There are at least a dozen restaurants circling the water, most of which I have been to before. But I’ve always wanted to try this Italian place, Casa Dei Sogni. It’s this little family owned restaurant that’s been passed down 3 generations. I think it means “Dream home” or something. The original owners opened the restaurant with literally every dollar they owned so that they could live out the dream of owning a restaurant. I’ve wanted to go there ever since I first came to the harbor, but Cato hates Italian food. 

Stop it Katniss. He’s not here. And you know what? Italian sounds great.

The doors open to an elegant yet casual main dining room, topped with a dome ceiling. Faux stucco and replications of Italian art covers every inch of wall space. The hostess breaks my gaze and seats me in booth near the kitchen. Before I can even open my menu, the server comes by.

“How are you doing tonight, my name is Finnick, I’ll be taking care of you this evening. Can I start you off with something to drink?” he says so effortlessly. 

“Just water please.” I respond. He nods gently then recedes back into the kitchen. The menu is filled with choices and I become instantly overwhelmed. I haven’t picked out my own food at a restaurant in years and it’s been even longer since I've had authentic Italian food. 

Finnick reappears within a few moments with my beverage. “Do you need a few minutes to look over the menu?” he asks his voice calming and firm.

“Surprise me.” I reply with a smile. I know my one chance to pick my own dinner and I blow it. But honestly, the idea of taking such a chance with my food gives me a small rush. 

“Excellent choice!” And with that he takes my menu and once again disappears around the corner. 

Across the restaurant sits an elderly coupon sitting next to each other rather than across the table. They are holding hands while sipping wine, gazing out over the water through the window. They look unbelievably happy together. Oh what I wouldn’t give to be that happy with someone. But as it stands right now, I’d rather just be alone. 

I must have been staring at them for a while because the next thing I notice is Finnick bringing me my dinner. “Our ‘Bay View Pasta’, my personal favorite. Enjoy.” I thank him with a subtle smile and begin to twirl the pasta on my fork. It’s a delicious melody of fettuccine noodles tossed with lump crab meat and shrimp, covered in a rich white wine and cream sauce. I couldn’t have picked a better dish myself. Its absolute perfection. 

“This is amazing!” The words jump out of my mouth before Finnick can ask me upon his return. 

“I’m glad. It’s the cook’s personal creation. He’s been asking the owners to add it for months.”

“Well they would be stupid not to! It’s perfect!” I’ve never been so excited about food. In fact, I must sound ridiculous to this man, gushing about pasta like it’s made of gold. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you! Can I get you anything else?” I shake my head and he lays the check on the corner of the table. “No rush!” 

I finish my pasta and leave cash for Finnick, including a 25% tip. I’ve been a server before and I know how hard he must work. Quite honestly, he deserved much more than I could give him. He didn’t just serve me dinner, he made me feel comfortable, which is more than I could have hoped for. 

I gather my jacket and make for the door, sorry to see this night coming to a close. But a quick peek at my watch shows that it is almost 8pm and surely someone will begin to wonder where I am. I guess all good things must come to an end.

The sun has just about set and the warm sun casts an orange glow on the bay. A few more minutes won’t make that much of a difference. Besides, if Cato is going to get mad today, I might as well make the most of it. 

Making my way to Capitol Hill isn’t too far of a walk, just crossed a few streets and up the many stairs really. It’s all worth it once I reach the top. This is the city you see in all those landscapes. It’s breathtaking really. As the sun leaves the sky, the moon gently reflects on the water. The lights of the surrounding buildings glow in vibrant shades of blues and oranges. There’s something about the lights on the harbor that just scream “Capitol”. Majestic in every way, I am captivated by way sights which lay before me as I sit just below a canon on the edge of the hill. 

“It's beautiful isn’t it?” An unknown voice calls. I look over my shoulder to see an older gentleman, who I take to be homeless due to attire and overstuffed backpack. 

“I wish I could look at it every day. Pictures really don’t do it justice.” I want to keep eye contact with him, but I simply can’t turn away from the cityscape. 

“You know, a lot of people here, they don’t take the time to notice. They’re too busy wrapped up in their lives. But if they just stop and look around, they’d realize, ‘hey life ain’t that bad’.” His words are unexpectedly wise and bring a smile to my face. Breaking may gaze with the water, I glance at the man; a modern day philosopher. A middle aged man, clad in cargo pants and a faded blue tee shirt, with his worn sneakers repeatedly repaired by duct tape. I’ve never worn out a pair of shoes. I suppose its because I have so many. Its an compulsive addiction really. Heck, I still have shoes from middle school, barely any scuffs and the bottom soles still bare the company logo. My shame directs my eyes off to the middle distance. 

But something brings me back and I once again turn to face him, suddenly more intrigued by this stranger. “Sometimes we don’t have a choice. Life doesn’t always work out the way you planned.” The words flow from my mouth, before I have time to think about them first. God, how spoiled I must sound to him. Who am I to argue the unfairness of life with him? 

“You’re preaching to the choir young lady. I never thought I’d be here. But you know what? I am here, and that counts for something.” His smile catches me off guard. I can’t look at him anymore, and turn my gaze back to the harbor. How selfish I must sound. I clearly appear to be someone with a home and means, yet here I was telling a homeless man, a very kind one at that, that my life sucks, wallowing in self pity. 

“We all have a choice… it’s just some of us don’t have the strength to make it.” And with that, he turned and walks away, leaving me speechless without meaning. My own silence confirms his theory. I am weak, and undeserving of the pity I had previously placed on myself.

This place has quickly become unbearable, clouded by my own inner demons. I bid goodbye to the city from atop my perch and make my way down the hill to the nearest train station. The station is much more crowded, filled with miscellaneous retail and restaurant workers heading home to their families. 

Once onboard, I begin to drift off once again, my eyes fixated on the ever changing view outside the window. A dream of life here in the city, free to live out my days as I please, blending in with the thousands of lucky souls who call it home. Wishing one day to be as content as the stranger from the hill.


	4. Back at One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know....   
> I want to apologize for waiting a year to resume. But, I am back to writing full time again (Thank goodness). So.... here are a few chapters to say both sorry and thank you :)

Just as my eyes seem to rest, they flutter open as the soft morning glow rises through the window. Sleep didn't come last night. Cato was waiting for me when I got home. I tried to lie and told him I got called into work, but he said he had called the restaurant. "How dare you disrespect him like that? Where were you? Off with some other guy?"

"No", I begged him to take pity on me since my cheek still bore a bruise from our last discussion, but to no avail.

"You will remember who you come home to next time. And now, since I can't trust you, you are now on curfew. You go to work, you come home. You call every time you arrive somewhere. You ask to go anywhere else." his screaming eased when he noticed me shaking in fear. "I love you honey. I worry about you." I wanted turn my face away from his palm as he reached out to caress my face, but I thought better of it.

Still sitting in the fetal position by the window, I admit defeat to the sun and get ready for work. Its not so bad today, Madge is working the same shift as me and while she will never know to what depths Cato has hurt me, she is the only person in this world who I trust to talk to.

My sister is down stairs when I finally emerge from my room. Sitting at the kitchen counter, her two braids fall to each side of her face as she eats her cereal. And as I walk past her, rounding my way to the coffee pot, I pause to tuck in the back of her blouse into the skirt of her girl scout uniform.

"Seriously Prim, soon I'm going to have to stop referring to you as 'little duck'. You are almost as tall as me."

"Yeah, but somehow the nickname 'duck' just doesn't have the same ring to it."

The laugh we share lightens the air. "Well I gotta get going. Don't forget to take a key with you. Grandma is picking you up and you know she always forgets to bring it."

"What would I do without you sis." Unable to look her in the eyes, the profile of my smile the only response I can offer her. What if one day, I wasn't here for her?

The drive to the restaurant only takes eight minutes, and concludes with me parking my car in the same spot I have every day for the two years I have worked here. I clock in and tie my apron around my waist, not as tightly as usual due to my newest infliction. Right on the top of my left hip, easily hidden, yet offers a painful reminder with every move I make. Ever stealthy, Madge sneaks up behind me just in time to notice the wince I let out.

"Rough night, huh?" I nod, not needing to tell her anymore. "You know how badly I want to just shake you until you wake up, girlie? How much more can you take before he breaks you?"

Tears well up in my eyes but they don't fall. My words flow easily, as I let go of the breath I have been holding. "I'm already broken."

Madge's eyes soften, no longer set on lecturing me, she knows I need a sympathetic ear. "Well, you know I'm here for you, sweetie. Now let's get this place set before the early birds get here." She offers a superficial smile and nudges my shoulder as she walks past.

The shift was normal, a nice quiet reprieve from earlier events. One of my regulars came in, this middle aged couple with four kids. Rambunctious group they are. I don't know how they do it. But every time they come in, the youngest seems set on making the hugest mess. While other servers would look down on such behavior, I remember Prim acting out similarly as a young child and sympathize. This was, after all, the parents attempt at a nice night out. Why should I ruin it by making a fuss? Anyway, they always leave a nice tip, usually over 30%. So what's picking up French fries and macaroni and cheese at the end of the day?

I cash out with my boss and tip the bartender before heading out to my car, remembering at the last minute to call Cato. "I'm getting in my car. I'll be home in ten minutes."

"Okay honey. See wasn't that easy? Now I will always know where you are." The farewell between us is blurry, its irrelevant. Only one phrase matters to me…..

"I'll always know where you are."


	5. Fast Car

The past few weeks have been a rollercoaster in themselves. Despite my recent efforts to please Cato with my curfew, he seems to be seeking out ways to punish me. Forgot to remind him about his dentist appointment, pushed into the side of the car door. Didn't wait for him to be ready for dinner, held my throat until my face turned purple. Asked to go out with Madge for her birthday, jar candle thrown at my face. Make-up hides the bruises. Even if it didn't, people only see what they want to see.

But in all this, my mother surprised us last week. She had booked a last minute vacation to District 4. Six days and seven nights in an ocean front condo. Swimming with my sister in the ocean, nightly mini golf competitions with my parents. The best part hit me seconds later. Cato was in mandatory overtime for work at that time and wouldn't be able to get off. My first true vacation in years.

I had to hide my excitement, even told him I didn't have to go. Much to my surprise, his response offered the first compassionate exchange I have had with him in years. "Nah, honey I want you to go. Enjoy some time with your family." I return his crocked smile with a soft one of my own. That was too easy, I thought.

As I turn to return to the kitchen, happy to be able to accept my mother's invitation, is when he lets his true colors show.

"I know you'll be ok. Won't you?" I pause, not daring to face him. "After all, I'd hate for something to 'come up".

TWO WEEKS LATER…..

My bags are packed, my shifts covered at work. All that is left to do is load the car and leave.

I help my mom by packing our car before she gets home from work. Somehow I manage to load luggage for all four of us in the small trunk. Well, my backpack and our pillows will have to sit in the back with Prim and I, but I don't think she will mind.

I smile and wave at my mom as she pulls in the drive way, proud of my accomplishment. "All packed mom! Not much room to spare but it's in there."

"Did you pack the boogie boards?" she asks.

"Ugh! No! I'll make them fit trust me!" I respond confidently.

"Oh honey, don't worry! Just put it in the other car." Confused, I raise a brow.

Just as I hear the words flow from her mouth, a familiar car pulls up to the house. "Surprise! Cato called me earlier today! He was able to get off work, so he is coming with us!"

My mouth hangs open, my heart crushed, unable to speak. My mother fills the silence. "Oh look there he is now! Isn't this wonderful! I'll let you help him load his car! Be ready to go when your father gets home."

With his same crocked smile, he proudly strides up the driveway, bringing me into a tight hug when he reaches me. "See, I always find a way to be with you. Now I don't have to worry about you." He moves to kiss my cheek, but I flinch slightly I response. Both of our eyes widen when they meet. I'm sure to pay for that later.

We drive through the night, me in the passenger seat of Cato's car. Pretending to sleep, my mind is secretly racing. But I must remain calm, lest my tears betray me. My headphones still on, my latest playlist on repeat, I slip into a semi conscience state, losing myself to the music.

"You got a fast car,

Is it fast enough so we can fly away?

We gotta make a decision,

Leave tonight, or live and die this way?"

A classic, by the unparalleled Tracy Chapman. I never noticed how sad this song really is, until, in that moment I realized how much I could relate.

When the day breaks, when cross the border into District 4. Tropical trees line small roads, labeled by hand carved wooden signs. The salted sea breeze tickles my nose through the open window.

"We're here. Can you believe it?" he asks the first words he has spoken to me since he appeared in my parent's driveway the day before.

"No." It's the truth; I can't believe WE are here.

We all unpack the car and head to the room. 502. The unit is spacious, almost as big as our house. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a wrap-around kitchen, living room/dining room combo, and a large ocean front balcony. Prim graciously offered to sleep on the sleeper sofa in the living room, giving her room to Cato. For that I am thankful, making it so that he would have to pass by my parent's room to get to mine, offering a small sense of security.

I decide against unpacking my suitcase. By the time I get used to what drawers my clothes are in, it's time to pack up and head home anyway. The day is uneventful, mostly relaxing in the room.

As we ready for dinner at my favorite restaurant, I am followed into my room by Cato. I look forward to dinner at this restaurant every time we come here and as a surprise, my mother had made reservations tonight to "start the week off right".

Cato moves to my suitcase, and removes the revealing black dress sleeveless dress I had brought for a possible night at the local dance club. "Are you serious? I can't wear this to dinner with my parents!"

"Can't wear what?" my mother pokes her head in my room. "I agree! Why not wear this one darling?" she pulls out my orange sundress from my suitcase.

"I nod, accepting the garment from her. When I face Cato, that all too familiar expression is glaring at me once again, but I don't care. He can't ruin tonight. My mom was right, this dress was perfect.

My defiance continues at dinner, rejecting the entrée Cato tried to order for me and insisting on the fresh fish special I always get. And when I order a glass of wine with dinner, despite his objection, his eyes are full of fire and rage. What has gotten into me? I'm not sure I really understood the consequences, but regardless, it felt great to stand up for myself.

But my strength was short lived, and once again I found myself submitting to Cato's rage. Once we reach the condo, I excuse myself to my bedroom, closely followed by Cato.

As soon as the door closes, my vision blacks out.


	6. Leave Tonight

Where am I?

I awaken from my daze as suddenly as I had begun. A quick glance at my surroundings makes me wish I hadn't. I found myself staring down, 12 balconies seemingly stacked below my feet, the salty breeze stinging my face as it dried my tears. The faint scent of sweat which woke me tickled my nose. It was then that I realized I was its source. My sudden awareness of my own condition gave way to striking pain, radiating from my left knee. Back to the ledge, I slowly stepped down, stumbling against the wall 6 feet back. What if I hadn't?

"Where am I?" I dared to let my confusion part my lips. My hair grazed my cheeks as I peered into the night sky. The moon seemed to call to me as I once again found myself distracted from my current predicament. "Why?" I asked the sky. As if expecting an explanation, I stared at its opulence. Surely such a peaceful sight had the answers. Who am I talking to? While I was still confused over my whereabouts, I was certain that I was alone. I preferred it that way. I was better off alone.

In the sky, I found the answers to my questions. I was on the roof of the Crescent Pearl, the condominium complex in District 4. It was not the peaceful vacation it once was, though I made sure to conceal my feelings from everyone. It was once a yearly reminder of family, fun and love. This year it was a cruel charade, marred by Cato's constant watch. Even in my most private moments, I felt his eyes on me. I hadn't the courage to suggest he stay home. Then again, my family was oblivious to his constant abuse. So, to spare myself any further pain, I just went along with it, locking away my inner most thoughts. If I didn't know how to react to my feelings, how could they?

I had been here before, on the roof, though this is the first time I did so without knowing why.

"Again." The only word I can muster at my latest revelation. What is happening to me? Another episode, I thought. I blacked out again, my mind trying to spare itself from Cato's rage. I felt my heart sink as I realized I wasn't getting better, it was getting worse. The lapses in time becoming more frequent, making it harder to keep track of even the simplest of memories. However, this time, the result of my blackout was almost too frightening to imagine. With that, I gave myself a quick pat-down confirming that, while shaken, I was okay. But next time, I wondered, would I be so lucky?

Desperate for a distraction, I reached for my cell phone. The screen flashed and within the split second it took the time to update on the lock screen, I took notice of the expired time.

"9:11pm. Now 1:54am." Almost five hours of my life lost. The last thing I remember was quickly pushing that same button, locking the screen and blocking the view of others. What was I doing? With a bit of hesitation, I swiped my unlock code across the smeared screen. My note pad app was still open; the most recent note, my journal I kept on my phone, was stamped "9:05pm". With almost no thought, I opened the entry. I felt my eyes well up as I dropped the phone, horrified at my last word, from my previous train of thought…..

"Jump."

I sat on the concrete, cold in contrast to the warm summer night breeze. I couldn't bear the thought of my own instructions. How close had I come to making that word my last?

"You've got a fast car,

Is it fast enough so I can fly away?

I gotta make a decision,

Leave tonight, or live and die this way."

I sit singing, trying to comfort myself. Suddenly, the words hit harder that the ever had.

I picked up the phone, deleting each of the four letters, only to replace them with five new ones….

"Leave."

I wasn't sure what came over me. Perhaps I was just my nerves getting the best of me. Regardless of the reasoning (or lack thereof), I sprinted into action, not second guessing myself. I fled to the stairwell. The elevator would have offered less control to me, and I felt as though only the movement of my own legs should guide me. I ran, down God knows how many stairs to the 5th floor. I hesitated as I reached the door to the unit that was to house my family for the next week. I slid five feet to the right, remembering that I had left the window to my bedroom slightly open earlier so I could feel the gentle breeze which now stung my swollen eyes.

"Quiet," I whispered to myself as I slid open the window and stepped inside, gingerly placing my feet on the sand worn carpet. I froze for a moment, listening for signs of life, but only my own breath was detected. I glanced upon the barren room. My bags still packed, thrown across the bed and nearby floor, an instant reminder of the pain that lead me to this moment. I made my way to the door, carefully stepping over the broken glass on the floor, while bracing myself against the wall it had shattered on. I peered into the darkness, unsure of what I would find. Silence.

Slowly I made my way down the narrow hallway, passed the remaining bedrooms to the living room, briefly pausing as the cold tile beneath my toes transitioned into plush carpet. I scanned the space, unsure of what I was looking for, until my eyes rested on my mother's purse.

"Mom." Up until now I hadn't thought of her, or anyone for that matter. I felt my chest tense, just as I had on the roof as I realized the full weight of my decision. Running from this, meant running from her as well. What about my father? Oh my god PRIM! I glanced at where she slept on the sofa, just 15 feet in front of me. She would never forgive me. I had become something of a mother to her when my mom decided to go back to school. For the longest time, she would slip and call me "Mom….err… Kat." And here I was, about to walk out on her. It wasn't her fault. It was mine.

NO it was Cato's. Even worse. Devastating the ones I loved because someone I forced down their throats. My sore eyes released another tear. I was coming undone, just as I had every other time I tried to escape my tormentor.

I squatted down, holding my face in my bruised hands. Something caught my eye. The glow from beyond the sliding glass balcony door. Slowly, I lifted my head to meet its gaze. Once again, the moon had captured my attention, this time; it appeared to dance its own reflection in the calm ocean waters. Its fullness was something I longed for, and its presence embodied everything I had wished for so long. It was if it was calling me, as ridiculous as it sounds.

Suddenly, as if something had come over me, I turned my back on the sky once again. I reached into my mother's purse and removed her wallet. $800 in twenties. She always traveled with cash, afraid that her credit card number would get stolen. As I went to replace the now empty wallet, a note pad laid a light scratch on the back of my hand, as if to alert me to my next step. With some digging, I pulled a pen from her bag and without thought began to transfer my thoughts onto the paper. Before I knew it, the skinny page was full and I signed my name at the bottom. "This is only for her.", I thought of Prim.

I slowly crept into the room my parents shared, and carefully laid the paper on her nightstand and glanced at the face which resembled my own, as a final tear glided down my chin. And with that, I exited as quietly as I had entered.

I didn't turn back as I fled back down the hall to my room, locking the door behind me. I could feel my body moving, yet my mind had no control over my actions. I grabbed my bags (a small duffle, a backpack and my purse) and climbed back out the window. Down the hall, down the elevator, and out of the building.

The wind blew against me, as if to push me, but I am determined this time.

I was not going back.


	7. Alone

The sharp hissing of the bus's brakes wakes me from my pleasant slumber, immediately followed by the rustling of bags as people hurry to exit. Why does everyone always fight to get off the bus first? It's the same everywhere really; on airplanes, in movie theaters, when exiting amusement park rides. I'm sorry, but waiting just seems to make more sense. Why rush and bump into God knows how many people, just so you can get off two minutes sooner? Besides, waiting allows me to take care in gathering my belongings, and the feeling that I may have left something behind in my haste won't come back to haunt me later.

The familiar smells of the Capitol fill my senses. The salt water breezes from this morning are nowhere to be found, and in its place stands the mixture of century old factories and pavement. It is truly intoxicating, and I had no idea how much I missed it. It would have been easier to hide in District 4, but it wouldn't have been so close to home. But then again, I haven't had a true home in years. Home is just another thing he has stolen from me.

Stop. Let it go. Don't let him get to you.

The lights shine brighter than the stars do over the city. I would love nothing more than to take in the site but I have to focus. Find shelter; safety. Where to start? What are you doing? You have no idea where to go! What did you get yourself into? Great, even my own mind is against me now.

While most of the others from the bus are greeted by loved ones, thrown into a warm embrace, my arms are left cold. There is no one for me here. I am alone.

I…. am….alone.

I consolidate my bags, stuffing my purse into my duffle and slinging over my shoulder, then putting my backpack on over top. My appearance has shifted from traveler to commuter. One thing I have learned in my 17 short years while vacationing, is never look like a tourist. Tourists are easy targets. Think about it. Tourists don't know the area, they are rarely certain of their direction, and they are preoccupied by everything except their surroundings. Sure I've been downtown many times before, but this time was different. Leaving was not in the cards this time around. And I had nowhere to go. I had to make this work.

"Tribute Street. Mockingjay Park is on Tribute Street. The breeze comes off the Harbor, so it must be this way." I stop, realizing I am already talking to myself. This is going to be a long night.

The urban skyline truly is amazing. Building of varying age, spanning centuries give way to billboards and sky ramps which seem to have taken the place normally occupied by trees. It's a different kind of beautiful, one that I am certainly not used to. Nothing about this situation is "classic Katniss". I have spontaneously flipped my whole world upside down, and yet I am content. I never thought I would be here, and yet I feel as though I should have been here all along.

The wrought iron gates to Mockingjay Park are cold against my palms and bring me back from my thoughts. Despite my preoccupation with maintaining my composure and my bearings, I find I have once again spaced out, and for quite a while as it seems. By now, the sun is almost set, and the once refreshing breeze now sends shivers down my neck.

Focus, Katniss. Find a safe place to sleep.

But there is none. At this time of day, local shelters are surely full, and everywhere I think to look is either already occupied or is completely unsettling.

So I trek on. Down through the alleyways and back streets, just in case one may contain a secure place to rest my head. I'm running out of time as the sun has almost set, and I am reminded by the breeze that the Capitol is much too cold for the District 4 attire I am still wearing.

Alas, I can't help but to take in my surroundings, relishing in deep breathes I suddenly feel free enough to take. I have never felt so alive.

When my feet finally stop, I find myself in a familiar place in front of Casa Dei Sogni. My stomach growls reminding me that I haven't eaten since the night before at my last dinner with my family.

My family. That night at the restaurant had been so full of love and happy memories. Playfully teasing about Prim's childhood habits, joking about how she would fair in high school next year, reminiscing about the good old days of softball with my dad, filling him in on what my former teammates were up to, and my mom and I planning a girls only spa day for later in the week. The smile I started my thought with was now washed away with the lone tear that has now fallen.

However, that is now my past and I must remain positive about the future. Cato can't have that too.

Walking up to the giant glass door, I grasp the gold plated handle and pause before opening it. "The first step in a happier tomorrow is a pleasant today" I whisper to myself.

The welcoming smells of olive oil and garlic amplify the hunger in my belly. And as I close my eyes an inhale the sweet aroma, I am greeted once again by the lively hostess.

"Hey I remember you! Welcome back! Table for one right?" she asks with a chipper smile.

"Am I that pathetic eating alone that I'm that easy to remember?" my question sounds bitterer aloud.

"Actually, no." she lowers her head, embarrassed. "I actually remembered the Mockingjay pin on your purse. I've been a huge fan since I was little. It reminds me of one my dad used to have."

The memory seems to bring more pain to her eyes. I look down at my pin, giving it a small smile before removing it from my bag.

"Here" I say, extending the pin to the hostess.

"Oh no! I couldn't! I…" she attempts to brush off my gesture.

"Seriously, I insist." Offering her the token once again with a smile. "Consider it a tip for excellent service and a seat with a great view."

"Wow! Thank you…" she pauses.

"Katniss. My name is Katniss."

"Annie." Her face beaming with excitement. "Well thanks Katniss, really. You have no idea what this means to me."

"I'm happy to do it. Just remember to pay it forward."

"Well, as promised, please follow me to the best seat in the house." She leads me to the same booth as before with an ideal view of both the harbor and the kitchen.

Unlike before, about half the tables are full now, occupied with a mix of families, couples and friends. One thing strikes deep in my heart.

I am the only table of one.

" So…. My Annie tells me you are the reason she can't stop smiling." The handsome server, Finnick I think, has broken my darker thoughts. "Glad you liked the chef's specialty enough to come back." He remembers me as well.

"It was nothing really. Glad to do it. Besides, I was in the neighborhood and couldn't pass up you're impeccable service either." My sly compliment seems to fuel his ego more.

"Well then, I don't think I can let such kind act go unnoticed, nor that gracious compliment. Will you trust the chef again this evening? I don't need to tell you that you won't be disappointed." His charm seems to radiate through his smile and reflect in his piercing green eyes.

"As always." He nods and takes the menu I didn't even bother to open.

As he disappears into the kitchen, I can vaguely make out his telling the chef to give me the "VIP treatment".

About twenty minutes or so pass, until Finnick emerges from the kitchen, tray proudly held high. Then, in one seamless motion, rotates the tray to set it on the stand next to my table.

"Madame, our chef's famous Lamb Stew with dried plums. And, at my insistence, cheese buns. You're gonna want to dip those in the stew. It's truly life changing."

"Wow! I have never had lamb stew or cheese buns. Sounds interesting." I say back, suddenly unsure of my decision to trust the chef.

"I'll be back in a moment to check on you." He leaves to start closing up the dining room, as Annie locks the front doors for the night.

The second he turns his back to me I dive into my first bite of stew. The meat is so tender; it melts as it passes my lips. The plums are slightly chewy, like raisins, adding sweetness to the palate that is surprising yet perfect. And when I dip a cheese bun into the remaining broth, all the flavors seems to dance playfully on my tongue. The perfect melody. And before I know it, I am soaking up the last of the stew with my only remaining cheese bun, licking my fingers afterwards.

"Well I suppose I can tell the chef you liked it." Finnick says when he returns to refill my glass of water.

"That… was… amazing! I'm sorry to say the chef's days of surprising me are over. I'm going to have to have this from now on."

He smiles and leaves, saying nothing more. A few minutes later, he returns with a bag and the bill. "For you, Miss. The chef said he would rather someone enjoy it rather than it get thrown away." I peek into the bag to find a to-go container of stew and four cheese buns.

Normally my pride would insist on protesting the offering of free food, but I know I'll need food for tomorrow. "Thank you. For everything."

"My pleasure." He smiles and walks away. When I open the check book, all that stares back at me is a note.

"Anytime VIP - chef P"

I approach Annie, inquiring about my bill.

"Have a good night, Katniss." Is all she says as she unlocks and holds open the door for me to exit.

Their kindness overwhelms me, and as the first happy tears I have cried in almost forever fill my eyes, all I can do I nod in appreciation as I exit out into the cool city once again.

Once again, I am alone. Shuffled steps lead me to a set of benches around the corner. I sit as the yells of a couple fighting in the alley my latest muse.

All couples fight I suppose. It's kind of ridiculous to think that two individuals can come together and agree all the time. Sooner or later, differences are bound to erupt. Was what I had with Cato really that bad? Surely others have it worse. I could still go back, beg for understanding, even though experience has taught me he has none to offer.

"Stop it Katniss."I say to myself, needing to hear it spoken aloud.

My tired eyes soon begin to droop, when a man approaches from behind the bench. Before I can even get look at his face, he has a knife to my throat, frightening the breath from my lungs.

"The purse, hand it over. And the food. NOW" he shouts, increasing the pressure of the knife just below my chin.

I am frozen, paralyzed. "I can't." the words come out hoarsely. Handing over my purse, with all my money, means an end to my freedom, and I would rather die than go back to the painfully slow demise that is Cato.

"Have it your way." I shut my eyes, and tense my body to the point of pain. And then, for a split second, I find peace in my thoughts, just before my head hits the pavement.

My awareness wavering, I open my eyes to see Finnick holding my assailant to the ground, as I feel a hand brush the side of my face.

I can just make out the blue in his eyes as I lose consciousness.


	8. Safe and Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay kiddies.... lets start getting into some Everlark :)  
> (I decided to post 2 chapters (8 and 9) together just because they sort of compliment each other)  
> Enjoy :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love! Please continue to comment, I love the feedback <3

The sun beams from the other side of my closed eyelids, making me instantly aware of my migraine. Rubbing my face with both hands, I move to sit up, waiting for my vision to come into focus. However, I am immediately held down by a gentle force.

"Whoa! You had quite a tumble there. Don't sit up too fast."

I squint to focus on the face behind the familiar voice. "Annie?"

"Oh good! She speaks!" she jokes, trying to brighten the mood. "Can I get you anything?"

"Ugh…. Head ache. Got anything for that?"

Annie nods and leaves the room, returning seconds later with two pills and a glass of water.

"What happened?" For waking up in pain, in a strange room, I sure feel calm.

"What do you remember?"

"Sitting on the bench." In a moment it all comes back to me. "The man, with the knife! Oh my God, my purse!" again, I try to jump up from the bed.

"Slow down there. Don't worry, he didn't get it. It's here!" She reaches down beside the bed near where she is sitting and lifts my purse into view. "I carried you stuff back after you passed out."

"What… how…..." I can't decide on my next question, leaving me unable to form one.

"We were leaving for the night and saw the whole thing. I hate to admit but I was terrified. If it wasn't for the guys, I don't know what would have happened!"

"Guys?"

"Finnick and –"she begins as the door opens after a gentle knock. From the other side, walks in Finnick, followed by a man with blue eyes I thought I had imagined.

"Telling tales of my bravery again my dear?" Finnick strides into the room. "How are feeling Katniss? Sorry we couldn't get to you sooner, but-"

"No! Seriously! Thank you, you're the reason I'm alive and talking to you now."

"Well, I did manage to teach his a lesson." His ego seems to grow with every statement.

"What are you talking about Finn? Peeta's the one who knocked the guy out! All you did was sit on an unconscious dude until the cops came." Annie retorts, causing Finnick's face to flush, as the room goes quiet. I look around at the three of them, finally resting on the only one who has yet to speak.

"Peeta?" I ask.

"Uh yeah. I'm Peeta." He says, lowering his head briefly to look at his shoes. "I'm sorry if you got hurt. I was just trying to get the guy off of you. I didn't know he would push you like that."

"Get him off her? Dude, I've never seen a guy hit the ground that fast! I'm telling you, Katniss, knocked…. out…..cold!" Finnick seems to have shifted his ego to his friend.

"Umm, thanks….. Peeta." I pause to relish in the way his name rolls off my tongue. "I, uh, can't thank you enough."

"It was nothing, Katniss."

"How do you know my name?" I know my head is fuzzy, but I'm certain I haven't told him.

"Finnick filled me in. After you passed out, I carried you back to our place. We didn't know where you live and we couldn't find your phone to call anyone-"

"I don't have a phone…. Or anyone." I whisper the second part of my response so quietly I'm surprise he hears it.

"Oh, sorry. Anyway, Annie offered to let you sleep it off in her room. She said she owed you after you gave her that pin." He is no longer looking down when he speaks. His eyes, now fixed on mine, are a vibrant shade of blue, so bright, they almost don't seem real. Yet, with the rareness of their hue, something keeps telling me I've seen them before.

Snapping out of my fog, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "So you work in the restaurant too?"

He lets out a breath, tinged with a laugh. "Yeah, I'm the guy who made that stew you almost got killed for. I guess I'll take that as a compliment."

My jaw drops. "Oh. Well, then thanks again. I just didn't, couldn't lose my purse. This is literally all I have left. Besides, that stew was amazing." I offer, trying to lighten the mood.

"Thanks." Now it's he who pauses, staring into my eyes with his. Damn, my heads hurts so much. "So, how long do you need to stay?"

"I don't want to be a burden. I can leave if you want."

"No, that's not what I meant. I mean, can we help you get home? No rush though."

"Um, this is kind of embarrassing but, do you know of any long term shelters? Yesterday was first day here and I kinda got here after they all shut their doors for the night. So…."

Annie looks to Finnick, and then they both turn to Peeta, who appears deep in thought. After a moment of silence, he speaks. "Well, I think I speak for the three of us when I say you are welcome to stay as long as you need. Just know that we all pitch in around here. Annie can fill you in. Perhaps this is our way to 'pay it forward'."

I hate to owe people, but for once, it feels great to have someone offer to help. "Thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me. I don't know how to repay you guys."

Annie and Finnick nod and walk out the room. Peeta turns to follow but pauses at the door and looks back at me from over his shoulder. Smiling, his last words shock me. "Tie perhaps?"

The words flow naturally, without thought. "Just this once." And as the last word passes my lips, it hits me.

Peeta was the stranger from the store, the subject of all my fleeting dreams, and now, he was my savior.


	9. Then There Were 6....

"So there are five of us. Well, six now, I guess. You've already seen my room. There's Finnick and Peeta, they share that room." Annie says, pointing at the room at end of the long hallway, just across from hers. "Johanna, don't get on her bad side by the way, she sleeps in there. And Gale has the den. He put up that curtain thing to block it off, but half the time he sleeps in Johanna's room with her. They think they are being all sneaky about it but they really aren't."

I miss the mark to laugh at Annie's gossip, so I offer a late smirk. "Good to know."

"There are two bathrooms; one here in the hallway and one in through Finnick and Peeta's room. Johanna has kinda taken over the hall one so I use Finnick's. I'm sure they won't mind if you use it too."

"I don't take up much room. Never liked to wear make-up and now I don't have to."

"Awesome! Well, other than that, there's the living room here, the kitchen has that little dining nook in it. A little background on the apartment; we are the second floor unit. There's the roof terrace above us, and Ms. Mags live on the first floor. Johanna works for her, running errands and stuff. The laundry room is across the hall from her apartment."

My head is still pounding, but I don't have the heart to tell Annie to slow down. She seems genuinely excited that I'm going to be staying here.

"Anyway, Finnick, Peeta and I work at the restaurant, Johanna works for Mags, and Gale is an 'independent contractor'. He kinda just does odd jobs here and there. Do you have a job?"

"I was working at this family diner back home, but I guess that ship has sailed."

"That's ok! I'll talk to Haymitch tomorrow! He's the manager where we work, and I'm sure he'll give you a shot. I think Finnick was saying we needed another server."

I nod. It would be nice to be back to work in a restaurant again.

"So that's our place! We all kinda chip in around here. I have laundry and dinner duty. I talked to the boys and they said it would be okay if you helped me out as far as your contribution." I didn't think it was possible, but she seems even perkier after that last sentence.

Without hesitation, I lunge forward, embracing Annie in a full-fledged hug. "Thank you Annie. It's nice to have a real friend."

"You're welcome Katniss. Now go on and set up your stuff in my room. Peeta is picking you up a mattress and some other stuff with Finnick. Although I do have to wonder why I trusted two guys to do a girls shopping."

"I'm sure everything they get will be perfect. Anyway, I don't really have much stuff, so there really isn't much to set up." Why do I keep turning her conversations to darker topics? I really need to work on being more positive. "So, are you and Finnick, you know?"

"Together? Yeah. We met a year and a half ago when he found me sleeping at the train station. It was a cold winter that year, and he invited me to come back here for hot chocolate. And me, completely ignoring that whole 'stranger danger' thing they taught us when we were kids, came back here and fell asleep on this couch, right here. When I woke up the next morning, Peeta and Finn asked me to stay."

"And Johanna and Gale?"

"Jo got caught by Haymitch digging in the trash cans behind the restaurant and practically begged to live here. Gale used to do handyman work for Haymitch, practically lived around the restaurant, but when his parents died, Haymitch caught him sleeping in the kitchen so now he trades work for rent."

"So this is Haymitch's apartment?"

"It's his building. Mags was a friend of his mom's so he moved her in years ago. Our apartment, he used to live in, but now he has a house in Victor's Village. You know that really up and coming neighborhood a few blocks away? Well, when he moved out, he told Peeta he could stay and look after the place."

"So Haymitch is Peeta's dad?"

"God no! Well, I guess kinda become like a dad to him. Peeta's just like the rest of us. Haymitch took him in when he was 14 years old."

"What kind of guy just takes in a 14 year old off the streets like that?"

A different voice answers. "The kind of guy who understands that you can't go back if you want to move forward." His voice, while smooth and gentle, startles me. Peeta stands at the front door, followed by Finnick, their arms filled with shopping bags. "Your mattress is downstairs. I'll go get it and set it up in Annie's room."

Annie and I take the bags from the boys and take them to our room to unload. Towels, toiletries, a bed set.

It doesn't take me long to set up my side of the room. Annie has cleared the nightstand drawers for me to use, as well as half of her closet. With all the available space, it becomes painfully obvious how little I have left to my name. On the bright side, at least I have control over my life now.

I'm just finishing making my bed when there's a knock on the door. "How's it going in here?" Peeta enters the room slowly.

"All finished up. Thanks again, for everything."

He smiles, his eyes go soft, as though taking in every angle of my face, then clears his throat. "I um… got you this." He places a simple cell phone in my hand. "It's a prepaid and not as fancy as the one you are probably used to but if you need me, or us, any of us, we are just a phone call away. I put everyone's numbers in there for you."

I can't contain my appreciation, which seeps through my face in the form of a sad smile. "Peeta, about the other night, I can't thank-"

"Katniss, seriously, we are good. Everyone could use a friend every now and then."

"I've never been good at whole 'friends' thing. And we hardly know anything about each other, yet you are letting me stay here."

"Well, I know you partake in late night shopping, have a love for dessert flavored ice creams, and love my cooking so much that you would rather die than let it go."

"To be fair, the guy was also trying to steal my purse, you know." I playfully joke. But soon there is a peaceful silence again, one I am desperate to fill. "Well, you know everything about me apparently, but I know nothing about you other than the fact that you are an amazing cook and have a mean right hook."

"I used to be on a wrestling team, I don't mean to brag but I was pretty good, in fact I was second only to my older brother. As for my culinary skills, Haymitch taught me everything he knows." The glimmer in his eye reveals the depth of his pride. "I don't like coffee, I'm 17 years old and still double knot my shoe laces, and I love to paint."

"Now that's all fine and dandy, but I don't even know your favorite color."I say sarcastically.

"Orange." He stands and walks to the door.

Suddenly, my heart is leaping from my chest, and as he reaches for the door handle, I respond. "Green."

He turns to show his smile. "Nice to meet you Katniss."

As the door closes, I whisper, "Nice to see you again, Peeta."


	10. Annie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Mentions of abortion and adoption*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know..... its been a looooooooonnnnngggg time. Im sorry, life has been a little sucky lately. But, Im here, so here is chapter 10. 
> 
> Please continue to comment/leave kudos/etc., it really brightens my day :)
> 
> Love always, RavenStoryteller

For the first time in years, I sleep with my door unlocked. Annie’s subtle mumbling in her sleep provided enough background noise to save me from my thoughts, well, all but one.

Twenty four hours ago, I was homeless, wondering where I would go, without a single soul to call upon. And yet, as I lay here on my crisp new sheets, I can smile knowing I am not alone. Knowing that these people, who I have only seen once before, care enough to open their arms to me (Annie literally more than I care to admit), brings a smile to my lips wide enough to catch the tears that begin to fall. And for once, it feels liberating to let these tears fall.

When I awake, Annie is already bouncing about the room, making her bed, choosing her outfit for the day, as she hums a song I don’t quite recognize. She stops the second she notices my eyes flutter and leaps onto the foot of my bed. 

“Good morning, roomie! How did you sleep? Was the bed comfy enough?” My mouth opens to answer, but the words continue to roll off her tongue. “I didn’t keep you up, did I? Finnick says I talk in my sleep sometimes, but I don’t know if I believe him. One time he said he had a full conversation with me, but I think it was just so he could trick me into going to the movies with him.”

“No you’re good, Annie.” It’s all I can get in between her cheery banter.

“I used to have these terrible nightmares, so bad that I couldn’t tell if I was still dreaming when I opened my eyes.” Her smile begins to loosen to a slight grin. “I used to tell Finn about them at breakfast, and he would tell me ‘they aren’t real, you’re here’. Now, I know I’m okay every time I open my eyes and see that I’m here.”

“Sounds like a good guy to have around.” I could have let the conversation die there, but I begin to recall words from her sleep, something about being better off or something. “Hey Annie, what happened? You said that Finnick found you at the train station but….”

Her smile is completely gone now, her face void of emotion. After a pause, perhaps to collect her words, she begins. “I thought I found that one person in the world that loves you more than life itself, but, just like my mom warned me, I was wrong.” She exhales, releasing a breath she has been holding. “I met him when I was 14. We dated for a few years, then….” She pauses as she begins to pick at her fingernails. “Then I got pregnant. I told him and at first he was supportive and told me how he was going to get a real job and marry me because that was what he always wanted. Then one day, he wasn’t there. Not at school, not in town. So I had to tell my folks by myself. 16 years old, knocked up, no boyfriend, no job, nothing. My dad started drinking, my mom turned a cold shoulder.”

I reach my hand out to hold onto Annie’s now trembling wrist, slowing the rapid movement. With another deep breath, she continued. “They didn’t want me to have him, but I couldn’t bring myself to have an abortion. So I dropped out of school and had him.” She goes to her bed, under her pillow, and retrieves a small photo, loving gazing upon it before passing it to me. “I tried to make it work. I lined up jobs, registered to get my GED, even applied for assistance. But in the end of the day, I was broken. I stopped sleeping from the nightmares and anxiety. No matter how much I begged for support from everyone, they just looked the other way. When he was 6 months old, I found this couple who had been trying for a baby for years and I decided that my son deserved a better life than I could give him. When I told my parents, they disowned me, and kicked me out.” Tears now steadily fall from her lashes, though her voice is unchanged. “I made my way here from District 4, started sleeping in train stations, until Finnick found me. He was the first person to ask me if I needed any help.”

“What was his name?” My voice cracking as I hold back my own tears. As I dare to meet her eyes, I suddenly see relief painted across her fair skin.

“Jay. After the baseball team. My dad and I would watch every game together and I wanted my son to have that happiness in his life. That’s why your pin means so much to me.” 

Words jumble in my throat and refuse to leave. How could anyone turn their backs on someone so loving as Annie? How could anyone hurt her so much? 

The only speech I can muster is a simple “Thank you.” For what I am not sure, but I seems like the only appropriate thing to say. I have never been very good at words.

She must understand. She clasps her free hand over mine, sandwiching it between hers. We stay there in silence for a moment, absorbing the energy left from our conversation. Finally, Annie breaks the silence.

“So, anyway, Finnick, he is spoken for. However, Peeta is as single as they come.” I almost admire her way of lightening the air in the room so effortlessly, if it weren’t for the obvious ploy to get me to talk about Peeta.

“I’m not looking for anyone. I just want to find myself again. Besides, I’m pretty sure Peeta and I are not each other’s types.” That’s not entirely true, but I don’t want to begin my first full day in the house as the center of the latest gossip story.

“I know, I’m just saying that maybe you should talk to him. As much as I love talking to you, Peeta is a great listener and I think it would be good for you two. He doesn’t really open up as much as he should. You could be good for him.” 

“Thanks, Annie”

After a knowing nod, she stands up and resumes her morning routine, untying the wrap on her head to let her long orange curls bounce just below her shoulder blades. 

Rising off my bed, I stretch as I head to the door, lured by the enticing smell of bananas and brown sugar. My nose guides me down the hall to the kitchen, where once I round the corner, my eyes drift to fair skinned shoulders, sitting just below a head of golden waves. I can’t help but stare as his hips sway to the music I hadn’t even noticed until now, dancing as he cooks. 

However, it isn’t until I look between his hips and shoulders that I see the pink lines that seem to be raised on his back. Two dozen or so scars, no more than a few inches each, are all I can see now, and what little happiness I had had watching him is now gone, the air sucked from my lungs so loud that he turns at my sharp intake. His smile vanishes as he sees my expression. 

“Hope you like banana pancakes. Breakfast is in 10.” He words are cold, unlike all of our previous conversations.

I dare not speak, not trusting myself to say the right words. I had thought Annie had been through the worst thing of us all, not knowing that we all had our own demons. Clearly Peeta’s were on the outside for all to see. Yet, just like Annie, he seemed to greet each day with a smile and a purpose, which left me wondering only two things as I sat at the table moments later enjoying the most delicious pancakes I have ever tasted.

1\. Would I ever find the peace that Annie and Peeta have seemingly found?  
2\. What story did Peeta’s scars have to tell?


	11. Back to work

“So if you want, Katniss, you can come with us to work today and talk to Haymitch. I’m sure he could use the help at work.” Peeta finally says to me.

“That would be great! Thank—“

He raises his hand in the air to stop me, “Really, you don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“Well maybe other…..arrangements….. Can be made, right Peeta?” Her voice, although higher in pitch than Annie’s, seems to cut through the air with an almost vicious tone.

“Good morning Jo. Just ignore her Katniss, she’s just pissed that Mags’ son was hitting on her again last night and it’s the only attention she has gotten in a while.” Annie interjects. When I look to Peeta, his head is down as he pushes his remaining breakfast around on his plate.

“First off, her son is an idiot, completely disgusting excuse for a human being. Secondly, I never have a problem getting the attention that I want.” She smiles then winks at Gale, who practically chokes on his coffee at her boldness.

“And with that, I’m off for work. See everyone later.” Gales stands to leave.

“Yeah, we better get ready too, Katniss. Shift starts at one and I wanna get you there early to talk to Haymitch.” Annie scoots me down the hall to our room.  
We dress quickly, Annie lending me a pair of her black slacks to go with my button down shirt and black sneakers, and we all walk to the restaurant together.

Once inside, Annie leads me to the bar where she nudges me towards a man, hunched over a glass on the bar. Annie clears her throat, and the man turns on the stool to greet us. 

“Well this must be the girl you guys won’t shut up about. Kat, was it?” his voice is scruffy and speech slightly slurred.

“Katniss, sir.” Is all I can say in response, still captivated by his bizarre appearance? He is dressed well, yet his clothes are wrinkled and dirty. His hair unkempt yet his face reminds me of the kind of men that would work in an office building. 

“Katniss, interesting. I suppose you want a job here, too?”

“Katniss is very dedicated, and kind. Also, she used to waitress at a diner back home.” Annie quips.

“Perhaps you could help teach Haymitch a little about dedication and kindness my dear.” A woman’s voice echoed through the building, but it was the look of her that truly resonated. Her pink hair bounced as she walked across the room in her 5 inch heels. Her face, powdered nearly white with eyelashes so long I don’t know how she was keeping her eyes open. She wore a purple pencil skirt with a matching fitted blazer. She was grace, fashion, and confidence with every step. “Well hello dear. Effie Trinket.”

“Katniss.”

“Pleasure. Tell me, what do you think of my friend Haymitch here? And do be honest.”

I looked first to Annie who shrugged her shoulders, then to Haymitch who snorted then took another swig of his drink. “Well, I’d tell him to take a bath. The restaurant opens in an hour.”

“You are a strangely dislikable person.” Effie smacks the back of his head with her clutch. “Ow. But I suppose you do have your virtues.”

“Well if you want to be babied, maybe you should talk to Peeta.” Annie laughed.

“Talk to me about what?” Peeta rounded the corner, joining us from the kitchen.

“About how to describe a poor old man, with a heart of gold.” He said, then chuckled at his own sarcasm.

“Well, I do believe Katniss’s bold honestly is quite refreshing. Haymitch darling you would be crazy not to hire her.” She gives him a loving look before adding, “Well, I must be going. I’ve got a big, big day ahead of me! Ta-da!”

Haymitch let out a sigh, “What do you think kid?” he asks Peeta.

“I think Katniss deserves a shot. Besides, you don’t want to be on Effie’s bad side, do you?”

“Fine. Annie, let her shadow you for a bit. And Katniss, may the odds be ever in your favor.”


	12. Nerve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know.... im sorry. Ugh life has been giving me a run lately. Honestly, knowing people are reading this makes my days so much brighter, so thank you!  
> ************************************************************************************************

The end of another busy night. My last group had a rambunctious toddler whom I can only guess thought it was okay to play with his food. Regardless, it was my duty to get the smeared macaroni and cheese out of the carpet under his chair. Maybe I was just raised better, but I would never have acted as such.

I have been working at the restaurant for two weeks now. It honestly feels great to be working again.

I have to relinquish my OCD when wiping the tables. At home, I would have never left swirl marks on the furniture, but here, years of abuse from patrons has made it impossible to get these tables pristine. Before I know it, I am spaced out, as if on auto pilot, and somewhere in between the sweeping and table wiping, I lose myself to my thoughts. ‘

I wonder what my mom is doing. We always cooked dinner together, sipping wine, talking about the trivial issues from our work day. I could always count on her to lift my spirits. How I wished she was here now.

Did Prim even miss me? I'm sure she does. She probably wouldn’t say it (damned teenage angst phase), but I feel like, deep down, she’s thinking about me. And what of my father? Sure, I am a far cry from the daddy’s girl I used to be, but surely he must be hurting. As I imagine his agony, I am confronted with my own, realizing that he may never walk me down the aisle. My sorrow makes my knees weak and I subconsciously slump into a booth near the window.

“You know, I’d offer you a penny for your thoughts, but I have a feeling they are worth quite a bit more.” Smooth as usual, Peeta is beside me, in an instant. His shirt is stained, blotches of yellows and oranges splattered about, and his apron has a line of fresh water stain right where his waist leans against the counter as he cleans it. And despite his obvious exhaustion from a long days work, his appearance still radiates that same youthfulness I’ve come to love about him. Over the past few weeks, we have become close friends. And it’s the look in his eyes that make it impossible for me to hold back.

“I never thought I’d be here.” I disclose. “Not, you know in this restaurant. Just here as in life…alone.”

His face appears puzzled. “Well last time I checked, I am here.” He smiles, proud of his sly remark. “And I can think of four other people who would say they also live with you.”

While Peeta is visibly spritely, I remain somber.

“You know what I mean.” I respond. He nods, confirmingly. He knows what I am feeling. It’s not a matter of warm bodies being close by; it’s about losing everyone I knew. It was about losing part of me.

He slides onto the seat, next to me, his hand seeking mine, reaching to offer a reassuring touch. “It gets better. I promise.” His voice is smooth yet cracks slightly, holding back his own pain. He finishes his speech with his usual elegant smile.

“It’s just that I threw it all away. I’m not that girl anymore. Everything has changed, and now I’m here and it just feels right and wrong, all at the same time.”

“It’s all a big game, really. We are all playing as someone else.” his eyes become glassy and distant, and the wide grin is now a slight smirk. “New names, new family, new life. You can try to hold on to some things, but that just makes it harder to let go of the rest.” His are glassed over. “ A little piece of advice…. Just start over, let it all go.”

I can’t stand the look on his face anymore, but my curiosity always gets the better of me.

“Why let it all go? Isn’t there anything worth saving? Nothing good to hold on to?”

My heart is fleeting, desperate to bring back the joy in his eyes. Surely something is worthy of a happy trip down memory lane. I should know better than to pry, but I wanted to know him, needed to know. This strange gentleman has shared so much with me all ready, yet I know almost nothing about him. My heart aches for his, though I know not why, and I deeply wished to find the answer to his torment.

A sarcastic sigh passes his lips and breaks his gaze from the floor, “There are some things that are better left alone….”

“Come on!” I blurt out playfully, unable to contain my intrigue. “Just one thing….”

“Its gone!” his words ring loud and deep in my ears as I scramble to apologize. How could I have messed this up?!<> “Peeta…. I didn’t mean to…. I just…” every sentence sounds wrong the second I begin it. How do you apologize for something for which you know not what you did? God Katniss, just say something! Anything!

His thoughts are more collected than mine. “This is my life now…..” his voice is calmed, void of anger but still laced with pain. “…. And I regret nothing.” Before I can raise my head from the floor, he returns to the kitchen, leaving me alone with my shame.

We don’t talk for the rest of the shift. Occasionally, Finnick peers his head around the corner to check on my progress. I make sure to sweep quickly, on the off chance that they decide to leave earlier. But for some reason, it’s taking them longer to close than usual, and again I am alone without purpose.

I had almost given up hope of going home on time when Finnick emerges from the kitchen, not nearly as dirty as someone cleaning a restaurant should be.

“Peeta's got some stuff to work out.” Finnick says. He’s trying to smile, trying to lift my obviously diminished spirits. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Unable to speak, I nod my head and collect my things, following him closely out the door. I know I shouldn’t wonder, but I can’t help it. What was it that upset Peeta so much? Then again, who was I to question him? He had never poked or prodded into my past. And of what I had told him, he accepted and never judged me. He was kinder than any man I had ever met, and yet I all I could do was upset him.

The walk is short and before I know it, we have reached the stairs to our building. But what of Peeta? I know he wanted to be left alone but I don’t care. I have to know.

“Is he…. Okay?” my head lowers in embarrassment, my feet kicking at the stray pebbles on the sidewalk. “Okay” is vague enough to not persuade any particular answer.

Finnick looks down also, as if searching for the answer among the rubble. Deep down I know he knows the answer to my real question.

“Give him time.” He says, managing a half smile. “He’s got a lot on his mind right now kid.”

Too vague. It’s not nearly the answer I wanted.

“I didn’t mean to piss him off or anything. I just….. I just wish I could talk to him. You know, about everything.” Not wanting to disclose to Finnick, I have to alter my thought process. “I just wish I knew how he got here.”

“Does it matter?” He makes a valid point. “Its not gonna change the fact that we are here. We all have a past, but if you let it, it will consume your future.”

I nod in acceptance, bidding each other goodnight as he makes back towards the restaurant. I hate to admit it, but he is right. All this time, I have shut people out, suppressing my memories. Why I am here doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I am here, alive, and free.

Just let it go.

As I climb the stairs, it’s as though a weight has been added on my shoulders. Carrying the burden of keeping a secret. All too long I’ve concealed my life from the world, and yet, tonight, the pain rings deeper. In some ways, the suffering I’ve felt for years feels like fresh stings on my back, keeping my breath to no more than a shallow gasp. My heart is racing, head spinning, and as tired as I was, I surely would not be able to sleep tonight.

The house is silent as I enter, with everyone asleep in their rooms. Well, I guess they are mostly all in their rooms. I have only been here a few weeks and I already know everyone’s’ habits. For instance, Johanna never leaves the door to her room open while she is in it, asleep or not. Annie swears she saw her sneaking out of Gale's room once. That must be where she is now. I can’t say that it would surprise me. Five young people living in an apartment together? Come on, let’s be realistic.

Gently, I open the door to our room, tip toeing to my side. But it’s no use; the loose floor boards betray me. Within an instant, Annie is awake, questioning me with her careful gaze.

She can read my face. “What’s wrong? Something happen at work?” Annie, always so maternal. Perhaps that’s why I feel so safe with her. I do miss my mom.

“Had a little fight with Peeta.” I tell her, sliding onto my bed.

“What happened?” she asks, not in a prying sort of tone, but one of true and deep concern.

“We were just talking. And I got so wrapped up in everything….” I can’t finish my sentence. I grab my pillow, clenching it tightly in both hands.

Annie is patient, but I can tell she wishes I was more direct. No more beating around the bush, Katniss. “I asked him about, you know, his life before all this.”

The raspberry she blows is almost as shocking as the height her eyebrows reach. She takes a second, carefully choosing her next words. Clearly, this is a subject best left alone. Despite this, she does attempt to answer me.

“What did he say?” the bubbly aura I normally love about her is gone, and what remains is the serious side of Annie, slowly lowering herself beside me on my bed.

“He told me to let it go…. That it doesn’t matter. This is life now.” Hearing me say it makes it seem all the more true. This is my life now, and it really doesn’t matter how I got here. Letting go of the hurt really does make sense.

She lets out a surprising chuckle and a smile returns to her face. “You know, I was terrified when they found me. I hadn’t eaten in days; my heart felt like it had been ripped right out of my chest.”

I can’t fathom what she had gone through. I can only imagine that it must have taken every ounce of her enormous heart to give up her son.

She has to pause before continuing. “I was done, really. I seriously felt like I couldn’t move on. Do you know what Peeta told me the first time we met?” she asked.

I was frantic, shaking my head before she finished her sentence, wanting to hear what kind words he had to offer her.

“He told me that my past doesn’t define who I am, but it does stays with me, and guides who I will become. I don’t regret a single thing in life. I can’t change it, so all I can do is move on, learn from it, and grow from it. That’s what really matters…..where you go from here.”

Tears swell up in my eyes. My emotions running wild, my heart letting go of the weight from year of torment. All I can muster is a simple “Thank you” before my breath is swept away. Before I can wipe the tears from my cheek, Annie has done it for me, and has brought me in for a hug.

We stay embraced for a few moments, healing each other though our arms. When I break my grasp, she releases and whispers “good night”, and moves to her own bed.

All my life, I have longed for a friend like her. Someone to talk to; pick me up when I am down, to share my thoughts with. After everything we had been through, here we were. I only wish I could help her the way she helps me.

I smile as I lower my head, still holding my pillow in my arms. But soon my eyelids quickly grow heavy and the room around me becomes blurry as I drift off to sleep.

And to think, I walked into this room, certain I would not fall asleep tonight.


	13. Mushroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY MY FRIENDS..... SOME EVERLARK!!!!

The morning sun comes too soon as always. Once I rub the light from my eyes, I can see Annie sitting on the foot of my bed, a cup of coffee waiting for me in her hand.

“Figured you would need this. You were pretty restless last night.” She hands me the mug, “Bad dream?”

“Actually, for once I can remember a single thing.” I respond, confused by my own admission.

Im not saying I remember every single thing I dream about, but usually there is a sentence or a person or something, anything that remains with me when I wake. I search my memory, desparate to remember something from my slumber. A light rapping on our door breaks my concentration.

“Hey Annie.” As soon as I hear Peeta’s voice, I scramble to raise my blanket above my chest, although he doesn’t notice as he cracks open the door, peaking only his head into the room. “Um…. Katniss…. I think we need to talk. I get off work around 6 o’clock. Is that ok?”

With my nod, he leaves, closing the door behind him. I can feel the heat of Annie’s stare over my shoulder. But I am relieved when she doesn’t press the matter.

“Well, come on sunshine. The laundry ain’t gonna wash itself, ya know.” Right back to her chipper self, she bounced off of my bed and out of the room.

I quickly dress in my yoga pants and green cami. Annie is waiting for me in the hallway. She has already collected everyone’s laundry. “You get to carry your’s and Jo’s. Good luck.” She says with a smile. Before I can respond, she exits the front door and begins down the stairs with the other four sacks.

I grab my own laundry sack as well as Johanna’s, which is easily twice the size of mine, and follow her down the stairs to the laundry room on the main level.

Fleeting thoughts consume me all morning. I’m sure Annie was trying to hold a conversation, but I cant focus. Before I know it, we are back in our room, folding the clean clothes. Its Annie who reminds me of my later plans, pulling me out of my trance.

“So…  your ‘date’ with Peeta tonight… what are you gonna wear?” Annie teases as we fold the laundry on our bed. I don’t mind helping her with her chores since she often helps me with the cooking.

“It’s not a date, he just said wants to talk about some stuff.” I say, realizing that even I don’t know why he wanted me to talk with him after work. What could possibly be so important that he set a time with me? “He probably just wants to talk to me about work, or something.”

“What was that whole thing with you guys last night? Finn said things got pretty heated between you two after work.” She is fishing for gossip. I know she means well but I still don’t want to open up to her just yet.

Could that be why he wants to talk? I did cross a line or two last night. Does he want me to leave the house? Maybe I really don’t belong here. “It was nothing. I told you what happened.”

“That’s not what Finn thinks is….”

“Annie! I said it was nothing!” I didn’t mean to yell at her, but my anxiety got the best of me. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” I say, lowering my head. “Sometimes I just don’t know if I should be here. Maybe Peeta thinks the same.”

“No way! We are in this together. We are a family.” I can see the doubt in her eyes, even though she is trying desperately to comfort me, wrapping her arm around me for a tight sideways hug.

“Thanks.” I smile and reach out to complete her embrace. I can’t believe anyone could ever not like Annie. I’ve only known her for a short while, but she is easily one of the kindest people I have ever known.

We finish folding the laundry and sort it, putting everyone’s piles on their beds. Johanna has the most. She has a bit of a shopping problem. We all have our use for our extra income, and for Johanna it’s clothing, shoes, purses, everything. In fact, I’m almost certain she hasn’t worn half of the articles I just folded, which goes against the rules of the house. Washing clothes for no reason wastes water and electricity, which cost the house money. And since we split the bills equally here, waste costs everyone. Therefore, while not a life or death situation, we are supposed to only wash clothes when needed. Wearing the same pair of jeans for several days is sort of a no brainer. But Johanna is constantly changing her clothes. The more I think of it, I rarely see her in the same outfit twice in one day. But hey, it’s her life, she can make her own decisions.

All this thought over Johanna has made it painfully obvious, once again, that I own next to nothing. I haven’t really bought anything since I got here, spare for some clothes for work. In fact, I’m almost certain that if Peeta were to decide I should leave tomorrow, I could still fit everything into my luggage. Just thinking about what remains from my old life brings me back down to my mournful self once more.

“Come on, we’ll go shopping tomorrow. I promise.” Its as if she can read my mind. If I didn’t know any better, I swear Annie could have been my sister in a past life. She always knows how to lift my spirits.

“Thanks.” I owe her so much more, a deeper explanation as to what she means to me, yet all I can muster is a simple response. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Oh man, you would be lost without me.” Her smile tells me she is kidding, despite the fact that in reality, it’s the truth. I don’t know if I would have lasted this long here without her.

“Come on, let’s get dinner going.” I nod and follow her out to the kitchen.

We are about to start dinner when Finnick walks in the door, followed by Peeta.

“You ready? Lets go.” Peeta asks me the second he spots me, aiming his thumb towards the door.

“Sure. I didn’t know we were leaving and actually going somewhere, but let me grab my jacket.” I look to Annie for reassurance, only to get an equally confused face from her. “Oh, wait, what about dinner? Its six o’clock already.”

“Finn, do you think you and Annie can handle dinner tonight?” Peeta asks. I take their silence for acceptance and fetch my jacket. Now I’m even more certain that this will not end well. Peeta was always all about being honest and open with everyone in the house. If he wanted to go somewhere else to talk, there must be a reason.

I return to the kitchen to find Peeta whispering with Finnick and Annie.

“If this is a bad time, we can….” I begin.

“Nope, we’re good.” Peeta assures me, and then turns to give Finnick a hug. “Thanks again bro.” And with that, he leads me out the door.

“Behave you two!” I can hear Finnick shout as the doors closes.

What was that all about? What could he possibly have said to them?

We travel down to the ground floor and stop at the door across to hall from Mags' apartment. I had always guessed this to be a storage room but once Peeta unlocks the door with a silver key, I see that it is a staircase to a basement level. I’m not sure what I was expecting to see when I walked down the stairs. Truth be told, I didn’t even know the building had a basement, let alone that that’s where he was taking me.

Once we reach the bottom of the stairs, he uses the same key from his pocket to unlock both the handle and deadbolt to a second, identical door. He glances back at me before opening the door. “This is my..... mushroom.”

"Your what?" I ask, even more confused than before.

He smiles, "You'll see."

The door creeks open and I begin to take in the sights. The open space is dark except in the center of the room which is lit up by a small lantern, atop a large blanket. The light flickers, revealing a meadow scene painted across the walls of the entire room. 

“I thought we could talk over dinner.” He says as he points to a basket next to the doorway. I’m almost unable to speak; in awe of the scene before me.

“You did this for me?” He nods with a half smirk on his face as he takes my hand, leading me into the room.

As I sit on the blanket, Peeta begins to unload the basket before us. A comfort food variety of macaroni and cheese, fresh bread, and a desert plate with a slice of the cheesecake I had had at his work the day before. He hands me a fork and we begin to eat in silence off of the shared plate.

"So what did Finnick want, in the kitchen?” I asked.

“It was nothing.” His vague reply does nothing to sooth my anxiety, and soon we are consumed by an awkward silence.

"So, mushroom?" I ask.

"Right. So when I was younger, there was this field I would sort of run off to; my own special, secret place. Just this wide meadow, with one lonely tree where wild mushrooms used to grow around, morels. They are really great for cooking with, my grandpop used to cook with them all the time before he passed. Anyway, I would sit there for hours, drawing, painting, thinking. It kinda felt like grandpop was there with me, almost like I could talk to him about everything ."

"I'm sorry, Peeta."

"Its okay. Anyway, when Haymitch moved me in here, I found the key to this room and kinda claimed it for myself. I paint, reflect, you know? My new secret spot."

I smile, and we return to eating, but my head is spinning, going in a hundred different directions at once. What did he want to talk about? Why take me here? Has anyone else in the house been down here?

 My eyes must give clues to my confusion because he then begins to speak again. “Look, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

It’s been a long time since someone apologized to me, and quite frankly it makes me very uncomfortable. I put down the bread I was eating and wrap my arms around my legs, bringing my knees close to my chest. I don’t want to but something in me tells me to look at his face as he lets out a deep sigh and speaks.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have pried. Its not my business and you have no obligation to tell me anything." I say, keeping my head down.

He lets out a sigh, “Every time I ever talked to someone about my stepmom, they just brushed it off. ‘Debbie is a great woman! She would never hurt you.’” His voice is becoming strained. “My dad married her when I was five. I tried telling him not to but, he didn't want to hear it. To Debbie, I was just the kid who reminded her of my mom. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. The drinking, the screaming, the beatings; in the end it was always my fault. So I left. I tried to find my real mom but who knows where she is. I’m not even sure my dad knows.” Shame covers his face, but still he continues. “I might not have much, but I’m better off without them. These guys here are my real family.”

I can’t bring myself to look at him now. I feel foolish for not being honest with him. If only he knew how much I just wanted to tell him about everything. About how I opened my heart and let Cato into my life, only for him to destroy it.

“So you know all about me, what about you?” he clears his throat, “What’s your story?”

“I…uh… just needed a change of pace.”

At this, he looks puzzled.

“I had a great life. My parents were high school sweethearts. I was the daughter they always wanted. And my sister was just as perfect to them. I remember summers of softball tournaments by day and nightly swimming competitions with my family in our backyard pool.”

I have to stop myself; I’m starting to lose my train of thought. “Then I met Cato. Everything seemed to fall into place. And before I knew it, I was lost. Then he….”

“I don’t get it.” He interrupts, screaming. Clearly his apology is on the verge of being revoked as he gets up off the floor. “Don’t you get it?! Do you know how many people would kill to have your life? I….I don’t know what to say to you! Maybe you don’t belong here!” he continued, turning his back to me in disgust. How spoiled I must sound to him. He deserves to know the truth. It’s time for me to let go.

He is about to leave through the door when I finally answer.

“The first time he hit me, he bruised my cheek. I forgot to tell him that his brother called or something. The first time he kicked me, he broke three ribs because I was late coming home from work. And the last time I told him not to touch me, he put his hands around my neck, I swear I thought I wasn’t going to take another breath.”

I look up at Peeta. He slowly closes the door and turns to face me once again, staring at me with a look of pity that I can’t stand. “I don’t want to wake up every morning wondering if it’s the last time I’ll see the sunrise.” My voice is breaking, as I continue. “I’m free here. And for the first time in years, I can live.”

I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. And before I know it, Peeta’s lips have met mine.

I am frozen in shock. His lips taste sweet and his caress is gentle, just as I had imagined it would. His hands grip the sides of my neck, as if holding me in place; keeping me steady. My heart is racing, about to leap from my chest. And in that moment, I am lost in his embrace.

He must sense what I’m feeling, as his mouth backs away just enough to allow words to flow from it.

“I’m sorry. I promise no one will ever hurt you again.” His words send chills down my neck and I lean into him again, hungry for his taste. This isn’t like the kisses in my dreams. This one is full of passion and urgency. His arms pull me closer until there is no space between our bodies. His hands become submerged within my hair. I can feel his heart racing, his breath hasty. He pulls away just long enough for me to whisper.

“So now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?" I ask.

"Put you somewhere you can't get hurt."

My knees go weak and I’m almost sure that my heart has skipped a beat. I have no control over my body, and certainly not my own voice.

“Stay with me.” My voice is shaken, afraid of his response.

“Always.”

I let a smile shape my mouth and press my lips upon his once again. And in this moment, everything all makes sense. I feel safe. 

Now, the fire in the lantern has died down, and we are alone in the dark. Our hands spent hours touching every inch of each others' skin. Limbs intertwined as we both reached our bliss. I can’t say for sure how things escalated, but I can honestly say this was the first time I have ever enjoyed feeling vulnerable. And I loved every minute of it.

Once the rush had subsided, the calm settled in. His arms now had a different feeling; they felt peaceful. His chin pressed on my forehead, I pretend to sleep so as to not alter the moment. As he kisses my forehead, I can’t contain the soft sigh that escapes me.

“You're here with me, real or not real?" he asks. 

"Real."

A soft kiss on my temple is the last thing I feel before my exhaustion consumes me.

I don’t have any dreams tonight. I think it’s because for once, my reality is finally better than my dreams.

We decided to stay the night in the basement. Better than return to the others and explain ourselves. Besides, I don’t think either of us wanted the night to end. But once the sunrise begins to shine through the crack in the door, I know our time is over and we must return to the others.

I kiss the shoulder that has been supporting my head all night, waking him from his slumber. Our eyes meet once again. We smile at one another, truly happy to be as we were.

For here I was with literally the man of my dreams. There are no bruises on my body, nor tears in my eyes. I have no regrets. This is what love must really feel like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love the whole "Put you where you can't get hurt" exchange from the books, but I always felt like it was one of the few lines that I think Peeta should have said to Katniss at a later date, you know? 
> 
> Anyhoo, I know I only grazed the intimacy with these two, but I want to hear from you all...... please comment if you prefer a "summarized" love scene such as this, of do you want the details? Let me know! ;)


	14. Sorry

The morning after, Peeta heads to work with Finnick early, avoiding everyone else in the house. Unfortunately for me, I have chores to finish with Annie and cannot escape as easily.

“Somebody had a little sleep over last night!” Johanna’s voice teases me from across the kitchen.

Just keep your head down Katniss, maybe she will go away. I just continue washing the dishes from dinner last night. I didn’t mind that they didn’t get done last night. I mean, I already got out of dinner duty last night. Besides, Annie offered to help and I could use some company to keep my head from spinning.

I wasn’t embarrassed by what had happened with Peeta, I just didn’t want to be latest house gossip story. Although, it appears that I may become so anyway.

“Oh grow up Jo! Don’t you have anything better to do?” Annie snaps back in my defense. She hadn’t asked about my absence from our room last night, but that was Annie. She was the most loyal friend I had ever had and I can’t help but smile at the thought.

“Alright… Touch-y! I’ll see you later Annie. Say ‘Hi’ to Peeta for me Katniss!” My eyes roll upward with his last remark. But at least he has left for now.

“Don’t listen to him, or anyone else. If you are happy, don’t let anyone ruin it!”  Annie always knows the perfect words to say to bring a smile to my face.

We finish washing the dishes left after breakfast and make our way to our room to fold more laundry. We work in silence, which is unusual for us, Annie in particular. Something is bugging her, yet I can tell her kind hearted nature is keeping her from bringing it up. I decide to break the silence.

“Am I crazy?” I’m not sure what answer I’m looking for but it’s the only question that seems to feel right. Maybe I am crazy. I mean, we all have a great thing going here, and what if Peeta and I’s relationship messes it up. Hold on, relationship? Is that what was going on? It’s been so long since I’ve been in a real relationship. Is that what he wants from all this, a relationship?

I had almost forgotten that I had asked Annie a question.

“No, you’re not crazy. I can tell you like him, maybe even love him.” Now I’m even more confused. Her response seems to be more about comforting me than giving an honest opinion. “But just remember, people do stupid things when they are in love.”

There it is. Her true feelings on the subject. How could I be so insensitive? Annie loved once. She would have given anything and everything for him. Then to be abandoned when she needed him the most. I can’t hide the shame on my face.

“I do love him.” As much as I try to hold it back a slight smile creeps up the corners of my mouth. My eyes slowly rise, hoping to see a similar expression on her face, but there is none. For the first time, her eyes are cold, void of any happiness. I stumble to recover the conversation. Before I can muster a single word she turns and walks to the door, pausing just before leaving the room.

“Just don’t do anything stupid.” She’s fighting back tears; I hear it in her voice. I feel like shit. That girl has never done anything but be my friend. Here I was taking out my frustrations on her one day, and making her cry the next.

I can’t stay here; my thoughts will eat me alive. I rush to finish, not really folding things, but rather stacking them neatly. From my own pile, I grab my jacket and head out of the apartment, and onto the street.

The mid-summer air is seasonally cool as it blows my hair back, erasing all my sadness. I feel a great release, running away without being followed. Just being free to leave a situation as I please without having to constantly check over my shoulder. I can go just about anywhere without having to give a detailed timeline of my travels upon my return.

But I don’t know where to go. Despite living here for almost a month, I still know very little about the city. So I suppose, out of autonomy, I find myself climbing the stairs to the hill once again. After the first set of steep steps, my adrenaline takes over and suddenly sprinting up hill. And even though my muscles are sore, somehow my fastened pace leaves a smile on my face. I am in control of my actions.

Everyone always boasts about the Harbor, but I think if more people just took a moment to take in this view, maybe the Capitol wouldn’t be misconstrued as bad as it is. The setting sun projects its orange hue over the harbor mixing with the reflections of blue and red neon lights. It’s as though someone has spilled their paints in the water and swirled it about with passing boats. And even though the streets emit a smell of soot and stone, the air up here is crisp, filling my lungs with a virginal breeze as I take a deep breath and claim a seat on the same bench I had chosen months before.

Hours pass as I simply take in the sights, the sounds, and the scents before me. Children laughing as their parents push them on the swings behind me, young hearts flirting as they race up the stairs. The elderly gentleman in his camel colored suit, puffing a cigarette on a neighboring bench, who seems to be contemplating his life’s journey, glances over at me to tip his hat and give a half smirk. This is life. It’s the little things that make up our existence. Until now, I was never one to “stop and smell the roses”, but honestly, to not do so isn’t living. I think we go through life with a certain amount of mechanical motion, and after a while, we lose sight of the little things. But now, here, in this moment, I am living.

And as the street light come on over head, I am reminded of my duties. I have missed dinner and although I know Annie probably covered for me, I don’t like the idea of pushing off chores on her. I don’t think I can even face her tonight.

Descending the stairs, my mind returns to Peeta. Last night was amazing, the best night of my life. Yet, for some reason, my anxiety grows. Do I really love him? Can’t be, you just met him really. Life isn’t some fairy tale of princes, casting hopes of true love at first sight. And if life has taught me anything about love, its that its blind. Cato was great when I met him, I mean guys don’t start out as scum. They lure you in with promises of love and passion, and just when you let your guard down, they break you down.

But Peeta isn’t like that. At least I don’t think he is. But then again, Cato was the most romantic guy when we first met. Well, not as romantic as what Peeta just did for me, but still. God, that was romantic last night. Snap out of it, Katniss, you have to be more careful.

My head and heart continue to be at odds with one another the remainder of my trek home. My head telling me to look out for myself, not to let anyone to close, my heart telling me live in the moment and embrace my feelings. But as I am faced with the blue steel door from last night, I feel it. I love him. I have to tell him.

I slide through the front door and down the hall to my room where Annie is waiting. I open my mouth to apologize but she beats me to it.

“Its okay, really. But Peeta left this for you.” She reaches out to hand me a small folded paper. Her sullen tone fades my smile as I take the paper from her hand.

“I’m so sorry Katniss, I read it. I didn’t mean to, I just….” Her explanation ends as I unfold the page and read the note.

_Katniss,_

_I’m sorry about last night. I hope you understand that I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. I hope we can still be friends._

_Peeta_

“Sorry…” I repeat the word as a gentle sigh. I don’t dare look at Annie, I can’t handle her pity now. Instead, she turns the light out as I slip into my bed, letting the tears cascade down to my pillow.

 

 

 


	15. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short one, but I wanted to give you all something :)  
> ********************************************************************

Weeks have passed since I received that note. Things were a little awkward at first, the only acknowledgement we gave each other a simple nod here and there. Annie tried to lessen the blow. “Maybe he just thinks it’s too soon? I bet he is just afraid of commitment, most guys are.”

She really was the closest thing I’ve had to a best friend. Even before I left for the city, I had friends but no one I could really talk to. No one back home knows what really happened between Cato and I. I think everyone just assumed I was quiet. I’m really not. At least I don’t think I am. I used to be vibrant and full of life. I play sports ever since I could walk. I loved being part of a team. Heck, I knew more softball cheers than anyone else in the league, and you can be sure that I took every opportunity to belt them out at the top of my lungs. But that Katniss has been buried deep beneath layers of pain and isolation. Only time will tell if that she still exists.

Still more time passes and I can only guess that word has spread of my situation with Peeta. Johanna no longer teases me with kissy faces, and even Gale has offered a kind ear to me. I guess its better this way; at least I don’t have to talk about it anymore.

Days become reruns. Its three months since I joined the house and I think I finally know everyone’s schedules. Johanna spends most of the daylight hours out shopping or taking care of Mags. Gale on the other hand sleeps half the days and ventures out after dark. Annie and I often wonder where he goes, although we would never ask him. Finnick and Peeta work Wednesday through Saturday at the restaurant alternating between opening and closing shifts. I haven’t been working as much since Peeta and I spent the night in the basement. On nights I’m there with the guys, Finnick walks me home before returning to the restaurant to help Peeta finish up. So most days Annie and I are left to ourselves, alone in the house, doing chores and carrying on like I always imagined friends did. Our time together is something I deeply treasure. Honestly, I’ve never been so happy to do my chores.

I had almost forgotten about everything when Annie begins one morning during breakfast.

“I still can’t believe he hasn’t talked to you. Does he just expect you to pretend that night didn’t happen?” There is almost anger in her voice, as if she was the one who was call a mistake.

“I don’t know Annie, can we just let it go?” I ask, pleading to return to our latest celebrity gossip.

“Seriously _Kat_! I know its bugging you! It’s bugging the hell out of me! I should talk to Finn…”  she strikes a tender nerve within me.

“NO!” She arches an eyebrow at my raised voice. “I mean, please don’t, it’s not worth it.”

“You are worth it.”

“Thanks, Annie.” And just like that, she’s got me smiling again. “But if he doesn’t want to be a positive influence in my life than I don’t need to chase after him. I need to focus on my life.” I know that’s the answer I should give, even though it’s not the one I want to give.

“You’re right.” She says, although I can tell she still wants to question Finnick about his best friend. “How do you do it? You can’t honestly tell me you don’t think about him.”

“I do think about him, almost everyday. I keep reliving that time we spent together.” I choke back the tears that are silently welling in my eyes. “But that’s all it was, it was just one night.”

She sits next to me and extends her arm around my shoulder.

“Okay.” She smiles, then stands and turns to leave the kitchen table. “I’m gonna start the laundry.”

As rounds the corner of the doorway, I find my voice. “I dream about him, every night. It makes it almost real.”

She pauses, lets out a small chuckle. “It is real.”


End file.
